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A SON OF 
THE CINCINNATI 














A SON OF 
THE CINCINNATI 

BY 

MONTAGUE BRISARD 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 




ijy^V2- n 



Copyright, 1925 

By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 


(Incorporated) s 


* * 

« • 


* 


Printed in the United States of America 


THE MURRAY PRINTINC COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

THE BOSTON BOOKBINDINC COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 





A SON OF 
THE CINCINNATI 


A SON OF 
THE CINCINNATI 

CHAPTER I 

Where is the trail that did not begin 

With the laughter of youth and a heartsick sin? 

Staggering with the quantity of liquor that was 
in him, David Muir made his way across the 
reading room of the coffee house. The grizzled 
negro, crouching by the embers of the fire, glanced 
up; despair was etched in his black features. 

44 Y’ain’t los’ all dat money, Marse Dave?” 

44 No talk,” growled Muir, holding to the edge of 
a table for support. 64 Where’s the rest of it?” 

44 Y’ain’t got no more, Marse. Yo’ done used it, 
suh.” The voice of the negro was agonized. 44 Oh, 
don’t go hack! Come along wid me, Marse 
Dave-” 

44 Damn your impudence!” shot out Muir drunk- 
enly, his clear voice thickened until it was almost 
unrecognizable. 44 Run up to Mr. Clay’s house and 
tell him that I need the loan of a thousand dollars. 
Off with you — run!” 


3 



4 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


With a gesture of hopeless despair, the old 
negro rose to his feet, showing himself to be gigan¬ 
tic in stature, and disappeared in the night. 

Muir turned back to the inner door, reeled 
through a narrow passage, and then paused in the 
glare of lights to settle his disordered brain. 
Ahead of him was the garden, and he did not 
intend to go staggering across the open space until 
the dancers were once more whirling about to 
cloak his uncertain passage. 

In this year, which most men reckoned as the 
thirty-fifth of the independence of the United States 
of America, no gayer place could be found any¬ 
where west of the Alleghenies than Mr. Terasse’s 
coffee house and garden of Vauxhall, in Lexington. 
No more famous place, either, or more deserving 
of its reputation as a meeting-ground for Bacchus, 
Terpsichore and Minerva. 

Terasse had come to Kentucky from the island 
of St. Bartholomew, and had brought to the western 
settlements a fund of Creole gaiety and French 
elegance. His reading room was a marvel, with 
its forty-two files of newspapers; while there were 
entire rooms devoted to chess and billiards and 
card games. Behind the coffee house was Vaux¬ 
hall Garden, open to the public each Wednesday 
evening. Here, besides the dancing floor, there 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


5 


were vine arbors and summer houses; and here, on 
this evening of late spring, fiddles and fifes were 
all askirl, with a gay assemblage present. Mr. 
John James Audubon, over from Louisville on busi¬ 
ness, was showing the company new dancing steps; 
and it was hoped that Mr. Henry Clay, home from 
Washington on a brief visit, would drop in before 
the evening was over. 

Of all these things David Muir recked little as 
he carefully worked his way among the dancers to 
the other side of the garden. At length he gained 
one of the farther summer houses, which boasted 
an open log fire in its tiny fireplace. In this 
house he had spent the past twenty hours and more. 
He staggered in and closed the door behind him. 

The three men who greeted him were of diverse 
types. One was a wealthy trader from the French 
grant on the Ohio, in whose blood gambling ran 
like wine. The second was a fur merchant from 
New York, touring the Far West, with no lack of 
money to spend. The third, opposite whom Muir 
dropped into his vacant chair, was Captain Philip 
Hogan. 

“ Hogan, I’ll sell you ten slaves at half their 
market value,” said Muir thickly. He reached 
for a jug of raw whiskey on the floor beside him. 
In the act, he noted a scrap of white lace beside 


6 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


the jug, stared at it stupidly, then picked it up and 
thrust it into his waistcoat pocket. 66 My man is 
out of funds. I had some tobacco for shipment; 
but damme, gentlemen, I’ve forgotten how much of 
it there was!” 

He laughed, as did the others. They were all 
mellow with liquor, and were well-known men. 
But these two, Muir and Captain Hogan, were 
rather remarkable — each in his own way. 

Hogan’s name was famed all along the border. 
He was a hard-eyed, handsome man of thirty, with 
a reputation as an Indian fighter, and notorious as 
a man whose wealth grew by leaps and bounds. 
His backwoods garb held many touches of the 
exquisite; fine beads to the moccasins, a handsome 
gold clasp to the fur cap, brightly dyed quills to the 
squaw-tanned buckskin. He commanded a com¬ 
pany in a regiment of Kentucky scouts now with 
General Harrison at Vincennes, and was held to 
be lucky at cards. 

David Muir, on the other hand, owned little, and 
now seemed very likely to lose that little. He 
was ten years younger than Hogan. Despite its 
bloated liquor-flush, his features were strong, fine, 
virile, and his body was great-thewed and good to 
look upon. Yet men said that he was on the short 
road to ruin, and in this men said truth. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


7 


When David was ten years old, his father had 
been slain in some border brawl. Since that time, 
old Uncle Tom had managed the plantation, aided 
by the advice of Mr. Henry Clay. David had 
eventually studied law at Transylvania University, 
under the guidance and wardship of Clay, who was 
then professor of law. But Clay had gone to 
Congress, and with his departure David Muir had 
fallen upon evil days. 

Corn whiskey and chance company, as the saying 
goes, are untidy folk. Expelled from the uni¬ 
versity, half his broad plantation gambled away, 
branded openly in Lexington as a brawler and a 
godless ruffian, young Muir found the houses of 
the gentry closed to him and spent much time afield 
in the forest. From time to time, coming to Vaux- 
hall, he fell among thieves. 

“ Curse the cards!” cried out the fur dealer, with 
the heady impatience of a man in liquor. “ Boy, 
fetch us some dice!” 

“ I have dice here,” said Hogan. He flung the 
cards into a comer, where squatted the slave who 
was in attendance on them. From his hand, a set 
of dice rattled across the table, and the Frenchman 
gathered them up with a laugh and a snatch of 
drunken song. 

“ ‘ Legerement, ma bergere 9 — varee good! Ze 


8 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


dice, he is more quick, eh? Mains, my friends, 
mains for ze ten dollair ze fling, yes?” 

“Wait a minute!” cried Muir. He flung back 
his black hair, broken from its queue knot, and his 
gray eyes blazed at Hogan with almost a light of 
challenge. “ Do you buy my slaves, Mr. Hogan? 
Take the whole damned plantation if you like!” 

“ What price?” queried Hogan, his eyes narrow¬ 
ing. 

“ Damme if I know its value — say, five thou¬ 
sand!” 

A flash of incredulity flickered in the dark eyes 
of the winning gamester, to pass instantly. Hogan 
appeared to consider, then slowly nodded his head. 

“ For everything?” 

“ Everything on the place.” Young Muir 
laughed recklessly and swung the jug deftly on 
his elbow, mouth to lips. He lowered it again. 
“ Everything but my hogsheads of tobacco and my 
personal slave, Uncle Tom. Agreed?” 

“ Agreed.” Hogan nodded and turned his head. 
“ Boy! Send Mr. Terasse here with a bill of sale. 
Fling the dice, monsieur, and devil take the hind¬ 
most!” 

The dark, agile and rather saturnine Terasse 
appeared just as David Muir was gathering in a 
heap of paper money and coins, for in this game 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


9 


only currency passed muster. Muir glanced up 
and smiled, and the other three stared at him, 
astonished. 

Terasse was the one man in Lexington who dared 
defy the public dictum by an open friendship with 
David Muir. He had ever liked the lad, and Muir 
liked him. This was why, as Muir smiled, the other 
three gazed at him in blank surprise. In all their 
hours spent here together, they had not seen such 
a look on Muir’s face — this warm, heart-free, 
boyish smile that welcomed a friend, wiping away 
the brand of liquor for an instant’s kindliness. The 
wastrel’s smiles had been thin-lipped and unmirth¬ 
ful of late. 

“ Mr. Terasse, a bill of sale, if you please,” said 
Muir. 

“ I have brought it, sir, all prepared.” 

Terasse held out a paper, with quill and ink- 
horn. Muir beckoned Captain Hogan to his side. 
While they made out and signed the paper, the fur 
dealer and the Frenchman drank an uproarious 
toast, ignoring what was going on. Terasse 
watched with narrowed eyes, then, having witnessed 
the paper, shrugged lightly and withdrew. 

Hogan dipped gold and silver notes from his 
voluminous greatcoat pockets, for his coat was 
flung over the back of his chair to serve as a bank. 


10 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Muir heaped the piles in front of him, not deigning 
to count the money, but accepting Hogan’s dictum 
unquestioned. 

“ Mains!” he cried out. “ Mains, for a hun¬ 
dred!” 

“ Double you!” returned Hogan quietly. 

“Double you again, you damned rogue!” said 
Muir, and laughed. 

There was no insult in the words; as men will, 
these players had indulged in much rough freedom 
of talk among themselves. Yet Hogan’s massive, 
powerful jaw seemed to clench in anger, and into 
his direct, close-set eyes leaped a lurid flicker. He 
shoved out his stakes and seized the dice. 

Presently the fur dealer from New York, who 
had absorbed over much Kentucky liquor, began to 
nod somnolently where he sat. The Frenchman 
found the stakes too high for his purse, and sipped 
at his wine, occasionally breaking into fantastic 
toasts and snatches of song. The other two men 
played on while from the garden outside there came 
the scrape of dancing feet and the monotonous 
twang of the music, mingled with laughter and gay 
talk. 

An hour later, in the deserted and poorly lighted 
reading room, the grizzled Uncle Tom squatted by 
the fireplace, staring with a mournful and deso- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


11 


late aspect into the dull embers. Slightly to one 
side, shadowed by the settle, stood Mr. Terasse; 
he was speaking to a cloaked figure, speaking pas¬ 
sionately and furiously. 

“ Mon Dieu, sir, I could do nothing — nothing! 
You know that man Hogan; and he was cheating. 
It was no place to interfere, of course; yet he 
has stripped the lad of everything. Think of that 
plantation, that glorious mansion, those slaves, go¬ 
ing for a beggarly five thousand! Yet, had I inter¬ 
fered, there would have been trouble. The game 
is breaking up now, I believe. If you say the word, 
sir, I will gladly go into court and swear that Hogan 
cheated. I am not afraid of that misbegotten fire¬ 
brand -” 

“ Let be, good sir, let be,” returned the cloaked 
figure. The vibrant, crisp voice seemed tinged with 
a weary sadness. 66 The lad is a wastrel — God 
knows I have tried to save him from himself! Yet 
there is manly stuff in him, could I only find the 
right key with which to open that locked door, with 
which to reach him! Well, I shall deal with him, 
Mr. Terasse, and I thank you for your kindly sum¬ 
mons. Sir, your servant.” 

Terasse turned about and departed to the gar¬ 
den. From the fireplace there came a low sound 
like a choked sob; the head of the old negro had 



12 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


fallen into his hands. The cloaked figure was 
still shadowed. 

Five minutes afterward, the figure of David 
Muir came stumbling into the ill-lighted room; 
seeming somewhat sobered, the wastrel paused and 
stared at the crouching figure of the giant negro. 
Then, drawing himself up, Muir advanced toward 
the fireplace, steadily enough, and laid his hand 
upon the shoulder of the grizzled black. 

“ Uncle Tom.” 

66 Oh, Marse Dave!” The negro rose, his gi¬ 
gantic stature towering above his master. 66 Yo’ 
ain’t los’ no more? Don’ say yo’ done los’ no 
more-” 

66 It’s all gone, old friend.” Muir’s voice was 
bitter, and was still thick with the whiskey-fumes. 
“ It’s all gone, except you and the tobacco we put 
up. Come along, and-” 

He turned, then came to an abrupt halt. The 
cloaked figure had stepped forth from the shadows, 
and was now disclosed as a man clad all in black, 
with a very incisive and sharply cut face, whose 
eyes flamed out at the astounded Muir like steel. 

“ Your 

The single word escaping his lips, the wastrel 
drew himself up. 

Yes, Dave, it’s I,” came the answer, sadly 




A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 13 

enough. “ Dave, your father died in my arms, 
murdered. Do you know who killed him?” 

“ No.” Muir looked steadily at the older man, 
but he trembled a little. 

66 Since his death, Dave, that old slave has 
maintained your plantation. Tonight you have 
flung away the work of all his life, the hope of all 
his love and care, the ambition that he has fostered 
— on your behalf, not on his own. You have 
flung this away in a drunken gambling game. I 
believe, sir, I speak the truth?” 

“ You do.” 

The wastrel seemed of a sudden stricken cold 
sober. 

66 Your father, Dave, was an officer under Gen¬ 
eral Washington. He belonged to the knighthood 
of the Cincinnati, of which Washington was presi¬ 
dent. You, as his son, have rightly worn that 
order’s emblem and badge. Do you wear it now?” 

A steely tension, a stern accusation, had leaped 
into the voice of Clay. But Muir did not flinch. 
His hand went to his waistcoat, where hung by its 
ribbon an enameled eagle of gold. He laughed 
bitterly. 

“ Thank heaven, I did not gamble this away!” 

46 Let me have that emblem, Mr. Muir.” 

At this form of address, the wastrel shivered. 


14 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Without words, he placed the ribbon and pendant 
eagle in the hand of the older man. 

66 Now, sir,” went on the latter, in that same 
cold, terrible voice, 66 you have this night and for 
many past nights disgraced yourself shamelessly. 
You have disgraced me. You have disgraced this 
old negro, for whom my heart is sore. You have 
disgraced your father’s memory. You are not 
worthy to wear this emblem, and wear it you shall 
not-” 

“What!” Muir was stabbed into life by those 
words. “Not that, sir — not that! You have no 
right to do such a thing — Henry, I have been a 
fool, perhaps, but-” 

“ To you, sir, I am no longer Henry. My name 
is Mr. Clay,” cut in the inexorable voice. “ You, 
sir, are a worthless runabout, a drunken wastrel, 
and you shall not disgrace the memory of your 
father, who was my friend, any further. To call 
yourself a son of the Cincinnati — bah!” 

The biting contempt of Clay’s voice sank into 
Muir’s heart like a whip of steel, and in that dim 
light his features became ghastly pale. 

“ But you have not the right!” he cried again, in 
frantic protest. “You cannot take such liber¬ 
ties -” 


“I take the right — so!” On the word, Clay 





A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


15 


slipped the emblem into his pocket. “ Sir, the 
Cincinnati is composed of those men who fought 
with Washington to win freedom, and of their eld¬ 
est sons. It is a society of patriots, but you seem 
to regard it as one of tapsters and whiskey guzzlers! 
It is a brotherhood of stout-hearted gentlemen who 
sacrificed their all to liberty and with the utmost 
devotion of heart gave themselves to their country. 
You, sir, have sacrificed your all to dice and to low 
companions. Sir, I say that you are a disgrace to 
that noble company. Deny it if you can.” 

Muir stood silent, motionless. Clay continued 
his excoriation. 

“ Mr. Muir, I would advise you to go into the 
wilderness of Indiana or to the Ohio settlements 
— and stay there. I have watched over you for 
many years. I have seen you as a boy of great 
promise, a man of tremendous potentialities, a 
student who bade fair to become one of the finest 
legal scholars of our land. 

“ But, sir,” and now the vibrant voice drooped 
into tones of liquid sadness, “ I return to Lexing¬ 
ton and I find you none of these things. I find you 
a drunken gambler who has ruined himself openly. 
I find you sodden with whiskey, ambition closed to 
you. I find you expelled from that university 
where I had hoped to see you some day occupy the 


16 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


chair which I myself had held with honor. In 
short, sir, I find you worthless.” 

Clay paused, and then his voice drooped lower 
still. 

44 David Muir, you have come near to breaking 
my heart. Now go — depart into the wilderness 
where men know you not. Sink into the depths, if 
you will; or, if you will, lift yourself once more to 
the level of a gentleman, as I think you can do. 
Damme, sir, get down on your knees and pray your 
God to make a man of you! If He does it, then 
come back to me and I will restore you this emblem 
which your father once wore, and I will take you 
to my heart again. Mr. Muir, your servant.” 

Clay turned. Behind him, David Muir swayed 
for a moment — then suddenly darted forward, 
and his hand clutched at the older man’s arm. 

“ Henry — Mr. Clay!” he cried out hoarsely. 
“ One thing — tell me! You have always promised 
me that some day you would tell me who it was 
so basely murdered my father-” 

Clay swung upon him, with harsh and bitter 
features. 

44 Yes, David Muir, I promised you. I had no 
legal evidence against the man, and my hands have 
been tied; yet I had thought and hoped that some 
day you might take vengeance, as was your right. 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 17 

I believe that you have been gambling with one 
Mr. Hogan?” 

44 Yes. Captain Philip Hogan, of the Indiana 
Territory.” 

66 He is your father’s murderer.” 

One hoarse gasp broke from Muir. His face con¬ 
tracted horribly, and he staggered as though an 
actual physical blow had been dealt him; then 
he straightened, and his hand slowly went to the 
knife hanging at his belt. With a sudden move¬ 
ment he whirled, and headed for the narrow way 
leading to the garden, but he found Clay blocking 
his passage. 

66 Let me by!” demanded Muir in a strangled 
voice. 66 Damme, I say let me by-” 

44 You fool! Would you be hanged for a mur¬ 
derer? You are not fitted to avenge your father; 
you, a drunken sot, to think yourself worthy such 
work!” Clay’s voice fairly crackled with scorn 
and contempt. 44 First prove yourself the man 
your father was, or else go down among the swine 
and rot!” 

Muir stared at the man, then took a backward 
step. A groan broke from his lips. 

44 You are right,” he said, breathing hard. 44 You 
are right. Yes.” 

44 1 understand that you have saved some tobacco 



18 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


from the wreck,” said Clay coldly. “ Take it to my 
friend Berthoud, at Louisville. I will write him 
by next post, saying nothing of your character. 
Perchance Mr. Berthoud will give you a fresh start 
on one of his river boats. Mr. Muir, your servant.” 

Clay swung on his heel and passed on into the 
garden where the fiddles still shrieked and the 
laughing voices rose. 

The tall figure of Muir stood for a little while 
quite immobile; then, abruptly, the wastrel fell 
against the wall and leaned there, his head on his 
arms. A slight choking sound issued from his 
lips, but he uttered no word. 

Presently a huge hand touched his shoulder and 
the fingers encircled his upper arm. Muir stirred 
and came erect, and swung about to find the 
grizzled negro standing over him, dim against the 
obscurity. 

“ Marse Dave, does yo’ want dem hosses sad¬ 
dled?” 

“ Yes, Tom — no, wait! Never mind the horses. 
Get Mr. Terasse, and I’ll make out your freedom 
papers. I’ve treated you like a dog this night, 
Tom, and I’m sorry. God bless you, old 
friend-” 

Marse Dave, yo’ ain’t gwine do no sech thing!” 

64 Eh?” Muir stared at him, then made a hope- 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


19 


less gesture. “ Come, Tom, it's no use. I’m down, 
and the only decent thing I can do for you is to set 
you free. Get Mr. Terasse.” 

“ No, suh! Who’s gwine take care of yo’ when 
yo’ gits to Louisville? Who’s gwine press yo’ 
clo’es, who’s gwine tote yo’ shaving water — oh, 
Marse Dave!” The big negro’s voice quavered and 
broke abruptly. 46 Don’ yo’ go to carryin’ on like 
dis! Yo’ ain’t gwine kick ol’ Tom out, is yo’?” 

There was a brief silence. Muir pressed his 
cheek down against the huge black hand that still 
gripped his arm, and his cheek was wet. 

“ Go and saddle up, Tom,” he said simply. 


CHAPTER II 


If they that ride may see , 

Roads bring good company. 

“ I wonder where I got this!” 

David Muir stared down at a scrap of lace in his 
hand, frowning at it in puzzled bewilderment. 

This was a very different David Muir from the 
young man who had left Vauxhall Garden, in Lex¬ 
ington, a fortnight previously. Instead of broad¬ 
cloth, he was now clothed in stained, water-stiff 
buckskin. No overt trace of liquor now remained 
in his features, though a cunning eye might have 
detected the truth, and he sat his horse like a 
cavalier. They were good features beneath his 
fur cap, and even handsome after the manner of 
men. The black hair and brows threw into start¬ 
ling contrast the steady, vivid gray eyes; the wide 
strength of jaw, the thin nostrils, the broad brow 
—all bespoke a man of power and action. Yet the 
whole face was terribly haggard, and the hands 
resting on the saddle-pommel were shaking as if 
from ague. 

Behind, three wagons were slowly proceeding, 
and in the rear of them rode the gigantic negro, 
20 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


21 


Tom. Like his master, Tom bore a long Kentucky 
rifle over his shoulder and pistols at his saddle. In 
the wagons was tobacco — all that remained to 
Muir of his patrimony; and this, as it were, but a 
sorry interest on the whole. Muir had taken Clay’s 
counsel and was heading for Louisville. 

The wastrel stared down at the scrap of lace in 
his hand, vainly trying to recall how he had come 
by it. The thing was but a fragment, perhaps tom 
from some kerchief, and was broidered with the 
letters 66 A. du C.” 

46 Where the devil did I get it?” he mused. “ It 
was in my waistcoat pocket — I must have brought 
it from Lexington. Therein, it appears, lies a rid¬ 
dle! It’s from the kerchief of a lady, yet no lady 
has had favors for David Muir in many a long 
month; yet, drunk or sober, I never mixed with the 
town women, damme if I did!” 

This was true enough. He had been a drunken 
brawler and worse, but no light woman could boast 
his acquaintance, for David Muir had ever kept 
himself a span’s breadth out of hell. 

66 Well, no matter!” he thought in dismissal, and 
stowed away the scrap of lace. 64 Lexington lies 
behind me, and the wilderness ahead — and 
where rides Philip Hogan, I wonder?” 

He dropped his chin on his breast, in abject bit- 


22 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


terness of thought. It was not the down-thrust after 
long weeks of drinking which had left him thus 
haggard and worn; it was realization. The one 
man whom he revered above all others, Henry Clay, 
had cast him forth; and no word of all that Clay 
had uttered on that eventful night but was branded 
deep in Muir’s brain. 

Yet, though he had come close to madness, he 
had refused to cheer his soul with liquor since that 
night. It was an awful thing that Clay had tom 
from him his dearest treasure, the memento of his 
father which he had cherished with highest pride, 
the emblem of the Cincinnati; but more awful still 
was what had followed. The man with whom he 
had drunk and gambled, the man whom he had 
disliked yet had admired as a border notable, was 
the same who had shot his father in the back ten 
years previously. And Clay had turned him from 
vengeance, had sped him into the night as a 
drunken fool- 

“ I can’t stand it!” Muir writhed in the saddle, 
lifting a tormented face to the sunset sky. “ What 
have I done, after all? Other men drink more than 
I, brawl more than I, yet people think well of them! 
Or is it because I bade them all go to the devil, and 
flung the circuit rider into the river when he lec¬ 
tured me?” 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


23 


Well enough he knew that it was no one con¬ 
crete thing, but all things combined. He knew 
that he was stronger than most men, and drink 
had led him into fighting; that the senseless arro¬ 
gance with which he had flung money away roused 
the disgust and anger of his friends. And to re¬ 
monstrance he had responded with curses and 
drunken blows and laughter. 

It is hard for a man to realize that he has been 
a fool, that he has made grave errors by whole¬ 
sale; but it is much harder for a man to realize 
every step of his mad folly in proper sequence — 
and confess it to himself. In the past fortnight 
David Muir had thought over each act of his little 
tragedy, and his reflections had not been good for 
his peace of mind. 

True, a man of twenty-three has no business with 
such unhappy reflections; but David Muir was not 
the average frontier law student of his day. He 
had spent half his time roaming the forests with 
Uncle Tom, who was an exceptional negro in that 
he was a most expert woodsman. Once left at 
Transylvania with the shepherding eye of Henry 
Clay removed, Muir had violently rebelled against 
the strict rules. His revolt had ended in disgrace¬ 
ful expulsion; and after that — chaos. 

“ Oh, Tom!” 


24 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Muir turned in the saddle, shouting. At the call, 
Uncle Tom trotted around the slowly moving wag¬ 
ons, took off his coonskin cap, and wiped his black 
brow as he drew rein at Muir’s stirrup. 

“ Yes, suh?” 

“ I haven’t said very much about this unhappy 
affair to you, have I?” 

“ No, suh, I don’ guess yo’ have.” 

Muir eyed the black man, and then his haggard 
features relaxed into the kindly, warm-hearted 
smile which so won men’s souls to him. 

46 Uncle Tom, I’ve been in a right smart lot of 
scrapes?” 

“Well, Marse Dave, I reckon yo’ done cut up 
some.” 

“Yes; but, Tom, they’ve been boy scrapes — 
all of them. They’ve not been things of large 
importance. They’ve not been rogueries that enter 
into a man’s life and swing it after them. But this 
time it’s different. Now I’ve been a cursed fool, 
and I’m in a man’s trouble.” 

“ Yes, suh, I ’lows yo’ is,” was the uncomfort¬ 
ing response. The big negro did not look at his 
master, but his eyes roved over the rolling country 
ahead, where the Louisville trace vanished in the 
forest. There were few settlers hereabouts. 

“ Well,” continued Muir calmly, yet with a calm 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


25 


that was born of desperation, “ I’m going to leave 
the issue in your hands, Tom. I’m a big man, a 
good fighter, and you’re better than I am. We can 
strike the Ohio River, go to flatboating, and get to 
the top with a rough hand, a rough crew, and a roll 
of white liquor. You know how that goes, and 
there’s money in it. Or else — I’ll make a gentle¬ 
man’s fight, in which case I’ll probably make no 
money and lose in the end. Now, which shall it 
be?” 

Tom did not reply immediately. His gaze was 
still scanning the sunset-crimsoned trees ahead, and 
the bloodshot gray eyes of Muir evoked no swift 
response. Finally the big negro hitched around 
his long rifle and directed a sober glance at his 
master. 

“ I reckon, suh, we-uns had better trus’ to luck 
and shove for dem trees. Ain’t no Injuns in dishyer 
country, I reckon, and I sees a smoke ahead. If 
yo’ is willing, suh, we kin make camp wid dem 
white folks, and mebbe de good Lawd is gwine send 
a sign our way.” 

At this roundabout response to his question, 
Muir frowned with irritation — then he shrugged 
his shoulders. 

“ All right. I’ll ride on, while you bring up the 
wagons.” 


26 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


He struck his spurs, and sent his horse leaping 
forward. Looking down from the rolling crest on 
which they stood, he too could descry the smoke of 
which Tom had spoken; yet, had they both not been 
skilled woodsmen, it would have been invisible. 
Muir abruptly drew rein, without regard for his 
horse. 

As he eyed that faint smoke, his face seemed to 
tighten into something of its natural lines. He made 
out what had so puzzled Tom — there was some¬ 
thing peculiar about that gray twist of smoke. It 
was too slight to come from any settler’s cabin. 
Yet it was no fire such as any white hunter would 
build, and it wound up too steadily and darkly for 
an Indian camp smoke. To Muir’s notion it held 
an indefinable air of carelessness which argued 
that it came from the fire of some such reckless 
wanderer as himself, and at the same time the wood 
had been carefully selected, perhaps mechanically 
or from force of habit, to give off as little smoke 
as possible. 

Thus reading with his woodsman’s eye, Muir 
headed his horse down the trace into the trees. 
The smoke had appeared to be a short mile distant. 
Interest in this small incident somewhat relieved 
his mental confusion, and Muir trotted on for half 
a mile, then dismounted. He carefully primed his 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


27 


rifle, inserted a fresh flint, and, bridle over arm, 
led his horse forward along the ruts of the trace. 
Here on the lower ground, evening dusk was 
already closing beneath the purpled trees. Ahead, 
Muir could make out no flicker of firelight, and he 
advanced cautiously. Marauding Indians still 
came across the Ohio, and even now the woods 
were not safe for careless men. 

Then, coming to a thick clump of brush that 
edged the road, Muir suddenly halted. From the 
trees ahead there lifted a quavering, eerie voice 
which struck on his tensed nerves like a knife. 
The voice was harmless, however, and followed a 
monotonous tune as it sang: 

“ The trail is long, and we have trod 
The forest ways apart from God; 

Lord, grant that we may better know 
Thy minstrelsy where four winds blow! 

Lord, let us learn that birds rejoice 

And red men turn at Black Sand’s voice-” 

More than this, Muir did not hear. Without a 
sound, an arm had shot forth from the bushes at his 
very side; iron fingers clamped down on his trig¬ 
ger hand, holding his rifle motionless; into his ear 
breathed a rich, vibrant voice: 

46 Does my brother come in peace?” 

Startled as he was, David Muir recognized an 


28 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

Indian voice, and knew that here was neither enemy 
nor peril. No drunken redskin spoke such English 
as this person used. 

“ In peace, brother,” he answered quietly. “ My 
servant and wagons follow.” 

The fingers fell from his hand. 66 Come!” 

A figure, fully as tall as was he himself, rose 
at his side and stepped into the road; it was leather 
clad, like his own, but he could see no details be¬ 
cause of the gathering darkness. As the Indian 
strode on, Muir followed, leading his horse. 

Five minutes afterward, David Muir came upon 
a curious scene, all ignorant that he had that after¬ 
noon been approaching it along the highroad of 
destiny. 

Standing on the other side of the small fire, and 
gazing expectantly toward the two men, was the 
strangest being Muir had ever seen. At first he 
thought the man a natural, but soon realized his 
error. Black Sand was, at this period, between 
sixty and seventy years of age. Silver hair fell 
loosely over his neck and shoulders; he was attired 
in the simple buckskin of the woods, but carried 
neither tomahawk nor rifle. A knife was slung 
across his breast. His visage was weather-worn 
and hollow, marred by a pendulous lower lip; his 
eyes were deeply sunken, and his nose was awry. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


29 


His head, too, was ill set on his shoulders, for it 
continually drooped to the right side in a listening 
attitude, yet this was no deformity, but rather 
habit. His stature was a trifle over five feet. 

Here, as Muir realized, was the singer he had 
heard. The tall Indian, whose buckskin was com¬ 
pletely dyed with bloodroot and thickly beaded, 
advanced to the fire and sat down. Muir followed, 
and extended a hand to the strange creature who 
awaited him. The latter greeted him in a queru¬ 
lous tone. 

“ I bid you a good even, sir. May God prosper 
your errand, for your face is good!” 

“ Thank you,” rejoined Muir, in some astonish¬ 
ment. “ I am David Muir, late of Lexington. 
May I share your camp? My wagons and servant 
are following.” 

“ Aye, we heard the creak of three wagons,” said 
the other. 66 1 am Black Sand, a humble servant of 
the Lord, a voice that crieth in the wilderness. 
This gentleman,” and he motioned to the Indian, 
66 is my friend. Verily, I think that Providence 
hath sent you to us, sir.” 

Black Sand, as a name, was well known to Muir 
and to every other dweller along the Kentucky 
border; but few men had ever seen Black Sand in 
the flesh. He was said to be a crazed Moravian 


30 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


missionary who went about preaching to the Indi¬ 
ans. Around his name had clustered a thousand 
wild legends, most of which endowed him with 
supernatural powers. Muir eyed the man without 
response, being in two minds what to do. Encamp¬ 
ment with an Indian and a madman did not appeal 
to him, yet in the very aspect of Black Sand he 
found little insanity and much shrewd sense. 

“Aye, sir, you were sent to us,” went on the 
strange creature. As he spoke, Black Sand put up 
a hand and began to pull at his lower lip, stretch¬ 
ing it marvelously far. “ My friend, here, is in 
sore need of rifle and horn. I pray you, Mr. Muir, 
lend him yours for the space of a few weeks. I 
assure you that the debt will be repaid.” 

The cool absurdity of this request left Muir 
thunderstruck. Even though Muir shared none of 
the average Kentuckian’s savage contempt for the 
red men, Black Sand could not know the fact. 
Muir laughed shortly, staring at the speaker, won¬ 
dering anew whether or not the man could be sane. 
Yet the eyes were quite calm and cool that regarded 
him. 

Here he was calmly requested to turn over his 
weapons to a potential enemy* to leave himself 
defenseless, to place his goods at the mercy of an 
Indian who presumably would have no compunc- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


31 


tion about shooting him in the back and robbing 
him! None the less, being quite careless as to his 
own fate, the thing fitted in excellently with Muir’s 
mood. He laughed again, and then unslung his 
powder horn. 

64 Damme, Mr. Black Sand, you may have heard 
of me as a fool; but if not, your request has a dev¬ 
ilish aptness! Aye, it is granted. I am a fool, a 
man cast out and scorned and utterly worthless. 
Redskin, take the rifle. If it please you to shoot 
me, you’ll rid the world of an incubus.” 

With this bitter speech, he dropped rifle and 
horn, and then turned to help Tom, who was arriv¬ 
ing on the scene with the wagons. 

44 It’s all right, Tom — friends! Unhitch and 
camp over here.” 

Together they got the horses unhitched and hob¬ 
bled, a hundred feet from the fire. As they worked, 
Muir saw that the Indian still sat there motionless; 
Black Sand was bending over some strips of veni¬ 
son, which were smoking beside the fire. His odd 
figure showed grotesque and monstrous in the flick¬ 
ering light. The negro turned a half fearful face 
to Muir. 

44 Marse Dave, who is dem folks?” 

44 One is Black Sand,” said Muir. 44 And I 
shouldn’t wonder if that sign you spoke of-” 



32 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Black Sand!” broke in Tom. “ Fo’ de Lawd! 
I gits in dishyer wagon, Marse Dave; no, suh, I 
don’ wan’ no supper, more’n dis cold co’n pone!” 
With this, the negro hastily scrambled into the 
wagon, atop of the hogsheads. 

66 Devil take you, get out of here!” Muir or¬ 
dered, and laughed. 66 He won’t hurt you.” 

“ He ain’t gwine git de chance,” came the muf¬ 
fled response. 66 Dem hobblegobs and witches can’t 
hurt white folks, suh, but dey sho’ is pow’ful mean 
to niggers. Yes, suh! If dat Black Sand comes 
anigh me, I’s gwine to run. I sho’ is! I’s got rab¬ 
bit blood in me!” 

Chuckling to himself, Muir turned away, for he 
knew that superstition was the one thing which 
could completely quell the big negro. He returned 
to the fire, where Black Sand was now sitting with 
the powder horn in his hand. The Indian had 
begun to eat. Joining them, Muir produced some 
cold corn pone from his pouch, and fell to work 
also at the venison. Black Sand continued to 
fondle the powder horn, emptying a few grains of 
the powder into his palm, and from time to time 
shooting a glance at Muir. At last he broke the 
silence, his querulous voice sounding like that of a 
child. 

“Mr. Muir, I like you strangely. Look, will 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


33 


you, at this powder — black sand it is, the black 
sand of death and destruction. See, I throw a pinch 
on the fire —” and he suited action to words — 
“ and it puffs up into smoke and flies away. Such 
is life, sir, such is life! Man’s life is taken from 
him and leaves the body, but it is not destroyed any 
more than is this black sand, which is transmuted 
into a puff of smoke-” 

He broke off, staring down at the black grains in 
his hand. The man spoke excellent English, and 
there seemed to be a sound philosophy in his talk. 

66 Mr. Muir, I am sorry to give you the lie.” 

Black Sand had suddenly raised his head and 
uttered the words rapidly. The Kentuckian, look¬ 
ing into the deep, fathomless blue eyes of the man, 
felt a chill steal up his spine. 

“ Eh?” he exclaimed, startled. 66 You give me 
the lie — why, what mean you?” 

Still the other gazed at him searchingly. The 
Indian, meantime, was continuing his meal and 
seemed to pay them no attention at all. 

66 You named yourself a fool, a rogue and a 
fool. Mr. Muir, I see in your features the tokens 
of Satan — signs of strong drink and evil temper; 
but more than these, there is writ upon your counte¬ 
nance the symbol of manhood and of destiny. Aye, 
sir, I who am called Black Sand can read in your 



34 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


face that we shall travel strange trails together — 
that we shall witness the black sand of destruction 
spread wide through the forest, that we shall see 
men die, that we shall see good grow out of evil, 
that we shall feel the hand of God outstretched over 
the wilderness!” 

Muir was held speechless by those deep blue 
eyes. There was in this man a singular power, a 
remarkable confidence and assurance, which was 
very far from madness. Muir could plainly see 
why Black Sand was accounted crazed, but he 
could also perceive that the man was very sane. 

“ How —” he wet his lips — 44 how mean you?” 

Black Sand began to pull at his pendulous lower 
lip, and laid aside the powder horn. 

46 My mission is to spread peace. Shall I tell 
you of myself? Long years ago I saw — I saw 
— nay, I forget! It was blood and the black sand 
of death-” 

The querulous voice died away. The blue eyes 
closed. Black Sand’s head sank down upon his 
right shoulder, not in sleep, but in a mental con¬ 
fusion and bewilderment that was not normal. 

In later days, Muir learned that of which the 
man spoke, and which now so strangely affected his 
brain. A Moravian missionary, Black Sand had 
labored among the red men. Some forty years 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


35 


previously, drunken white men had massacred a 
tribe of friendly Indians on the Bloody River, in 
Pennsylvania, and with the Indians the Moravians 
who labored among them. There, among his neo¬ 
phytes, Black Sand had seen his own wife and 
babes slain by drunken frontiersmen and had him¬ 
self been left for dead. Since then Black Sand, in 
border belief, had been touched of the Great Spirit. 

Suddenly the motionless Indian stirred. He 
produced a short pipe of red stone and filled it with 
tobacco. He moved forward from the shadows, 
plucked a brand from the fire, and held it to the 
pipe. And once more David Muir was startled; 
more, he was awed by what he saw. 

This Indian’s face, lighted by the brand, was 
the handsomest that ever Muir had seen on red 
shoulders. The features were a perfect oval, with 
high, commanding nose, a wide brow, a mouth and 
chin of chiseled strength; and through all these 
shone the fires of character, of personality. For 
an instant the stem black eyes flitted about like 
those of a bird, then, lifting the pipe, the Indian 
slowly expelled a puff of smoke to each quarter of 
the heavens, and passed the stone to Muir. 

Astonished though he was, Muir repeated the 
action and handed on the red calumet to Black 
Sand. When the latter had also puffed, the Indian 


36 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

looked full at Muir and spoke in fluent and correct 
English. 

“ My brother, you have heard the words of 
Black Sand, who speaks with the tongue of the 
Great Spirit. You have given me a rifle and 
powder. My brother, you have done well.” 

The Indian paused. His voice held Muir petri¬ 
fied, for not only was it resonant and musical, but 
it held a peculiar vibration which seemed to re¬ 
sound back again from the circling wall of trees. 
It was a most astounding voice. 

“ My brother, I have listened to the words of my 
father Black Sand. His voice is as the voice of 
the Great Spirit in my ears. My brother, if there 
were more white men like you, then there would be 
no more powder burned along the border. I have 
said.” 

Muir understood that he was expected to say 
something, but words did not come easily to him 
at this moment. He looked at the Indian’s mocca¬ 
sins and recognized them for Shawano make. This 
meant nothing; he himself was wearing Shawano 
moccasins, for that tribe was the closest to the set¬ 
tlements and their products were most readily 
obtained. 

“ I don’t know who you are,” he returned slowly, 
66 and yet I think that if there were more red men 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


37 


like you, there might be more white men who feel 
as I do toward your race.” 

A flicker of pleased gratification passed over the 
swarthy face. Then Black Sand lifted his head 
and spoke. 

66 Mr. Muir, am I right in thinking that you are 
seeking your fortune?” 

Compelled by those weird blue eyes, Muir an¬ 
swered bitterly enough. 

66 No, Mr. Black Sand, I am seeking my man¬ 
hood. I have thrown away my fortune. I have 
drunk and gambled away my heritage, and I am 
now about to choose between giving my life to whis¬ 
key and roistering, or once more gaining all that 
I have flung away.” 

For a space there was silence. Muir met the 
steady regard of those blue eyes, and his own level 
gaze did not flinch. The Indian stared gravely into 
the fire, fingering a knife which was, like that of 
Black Sand, slung across his breast by a thong. 

66 Ten years ago,” said Black Sand slowly, “ I 
met a drunken Indian in the forest. I talked to 
him; we became friends. I prevailed upon him to 
put away the liquor of Satan, and prayed to God 
that this Indian might believe the holy message. 
My prayers were answered, as they always are. 
Although he is not a Christian, that Indian prays 


38 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


today at my side, addressing the Great Spirit, the 
architect of the universe, who dwells in a house not 
made with hands. 

“ What is more, sir, that Indian has founded a 
settlement on the' Wabash. In this settlement is 
allowed no liquor. The men till the ground and 
use the black sand of destruction for hunting alone, 
and for naught else. The ablest men of the Miami, 
Shawano, Sac, Ottawa, Pottawatomie and other 
nations are gathered there about one council fire. 
No violence is done. The hatchet is buried. The 
scalping knife is beaten into a hoe.” 

Muir nodded. 66 1 have heard of such a town, 
but I did not believe the story. The Indian, I 
understand, is Tecumsey the Shawano.” 

“ His real name is Tecumthe, and the story is 
true.” With startling abruptness, Black Sand rose. 
“ Kneel down, David Muir! Kneel down, while I 
pray that the Great Spirit will send you grace and 
healing!” 

For a moment Muir resisted the command. He 
looked at the Indian, wondering if by any chance 
this could be the famous chief Tecumthe; then he 
perceived that the red man had bowed his head. 
Shamed by that fact more than he cared to admit, 
David Muir rather awkwardly came to his knees. 
He recalled now how Henry Clay had so scathingly 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 39 

bade him do this very thing — and it brought 
reality into his gesture. 

What words Black Sand uttered, Muir never 
knew. Part of the prayer was in English, part in 
Shawano, and part in some other tongue that Muir 
took for German. He paid little heed, for an 
extraordinary feeling had gripped him. There 
seemed to be a force bending him to its will — 
some tremendous force that drove fear and shame 
and contrition into his soul, yet spurred him to a 
groping desire after higher things. He had never 
heard of hypnotic suggestion, but he vaguely 
sensed that this force came from the dominating 
personality of Black Sand, and before it he was 
helpless. 

Then he heard the man praying in some sort of 
doggerel verse, such verse as he had first heard 
Black Sand singing in the trees. No words fast¬ 
ened themselves on Muir’s brain, however; only 
the spirit of the whole scene gripped him, lifted 
him out of himself. That querulous voice, so filled 
with earnest power, was like a paean of the soul. 

Then it was over, suddenly. Muir looked up to 
see the short, squat figure of Black Sand go gliding 
off among the trees until it vanished. The stalwart 
Indian wrapped a blanket about his shoulders and 
lay down, feet to the fire. Once more feeling the 


40 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


unreality of the whole experience, Muir stirred to 
his feet, sought his wagon, and rolled up for the 
night. 

When he wakened to the dawn, he found a plain 
buckskin thong about his right wrist, and fastened 
to the thong was a round tag of leather. What it 
signified, he could not tell. Black Sand and the 
Indian had disappeared completely. 


CHAPTER III 


A friend to trust in the devil’s despite — 

Who grips faith’s hand in the white sunlight? 

“ Thirty thousand-pound hogsheads, sir, and 
three wagons with horses. Hm!” 

The speaker was the ruddy and prosperous Mr. 
Berthoud, who owned all Shippingport, and he was 
discussing business with one David Muir, the latter 
having safely reached Louisville with his wagons. 
Having heard already by post from Henry Clay, 
the merchant was willing and ready to do business, 
the more so because several flatboats were now 
awaiting cargo to New Orleans. 

66 All for sale, sir, and you shall set the price,” 
said Muir cheerfully. 

He was a better-looking man than when he had 
met Black Sand. Firmness had returned to his 
face, and Mr. Berthoud’s Oporto had put color in 
his cheeks. Since leaving Lexington, however, he 
had not touched any white liquor. 

66 You are arrived at an opportune time,” ob¬ 
served Berthoud, biting at a twist of tobacco. 66 1 
can take over your leaf at twenty dollars the thou¬ 
sand; but I would advise for your own profit that 
41 


42 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


you ship it to be sold at New Orleans. In that 
fashion you’ll get twenty-five, and perhaps more if 
you accompany the leaf yourself.” 

66 Damme, I have no liking for a month’s cruise 
down the river!” and Muir laughed. 66 And be¬ 
sides, I run the risk of pirates or river dangers. 
No, take the stuff if you will, and I thank you for 
your kindness, no less than for your hospitality.” 

“ Any friend of Mr. Clay honors my house by 
his presence, sir,” returned Berthoud. “ Well, so 
let it be. The tobacco, then, comes to six hundred 
dollars; the teams, let us say, three hundred more. 
Nine hundred in all. Is that satisfactory?” 

“ Entirely so. 

The merchant drew quills and paper before him, 
and wrote. 

David Muir had arrived that same morning, and 
found himself at once established as the guest of 
the hospitable merchant. Once rid of his tobacco, 
he meant to look around and invest his money— 
although he knew nothing of investments. For 
such work, he must depend on the advice of 
Berthoud. 

66 There, sir, is an order on my clerk,” and the 
merchant handed him a paper. 66 You may leave 
the money in our hands or draw it out, as you 
prefer.” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 43 

46 Then I shall draw it, chiefly for the pleasure 
of feeling gold chink in my pocket.” 

Berthoud shook his head. 64 You’ll find no gold 
hereabouts, I fear. However, I have a few govern¬ 
ment notes—oh, one moment! Keep your chair, 

_• 99 

sir. 

The Kentuckian relaxed in his chair. Berthoud 
opened a cubby in the wall and brought out a decan¬ 
ter of Oporto, with two glasses which he filled. 

44 Mr. Muir, your health! ” 

Muir bowed acceptance, sensing something more 
here than the mere pleasure of a glass of wine. 
Also, he found that Berthoud was eyeing him 
keenly while sipping at the wine, and was not slow 
to understand that he was being appraised and 
weighed. Then, as with a sudden decision, the 
rosy-cheeked merchant placed his glass on the 
table and leaned forward confidentially. 

44 Sir, ” he began, biting again at the twist of to¬ 
bacco, 44 we were speaking a little time since of 
your prospects, and an idea has come to me. I am 
about to repose a confidence in you. You may 
know that five years ago a great number of people 
passed down the river in the wake of that arrant 
schemer, Mr. Burr? Learning of his overthrow, 
many of these people took up land in Indiana or 
along the river.” 


44 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


66 So I have heard,” said Muir, nodding. Ber- 
thoud leaned back, speaking in a low voice. 

66 One such family came from the French grant 
upriver, and stopped with me for a short visit — 
charming people, sir, charming! Like all French 
settlers they had no fear of the Indians, and went 
across the river into Indiana to secure some prom¬ 
ising land. Being possessed of some fortune and 
knowing that money was of no value in the wilder¬ 
ness, this gentlemen left with me for investment the 
sum of six hundred dollars. It was a transaction 
between gentlemen, sir, and no one else knew of it. 

64 1 put the money into river enterprises, met with 
success, and invested it further in Louisville prop¬ 
erty. Today, Mr. Muir, that money has grown to 
the sum of ten thousand dollars — a large amount 
for this country. The deuce of it is that I can’t 
find the owner! ” 

Muir’s eyebrows lifted slightly. The other man 
nodded confirmation. 

44 Exactly. I found trace of him, for he was 
killed by some drunken soldiers near Vincennes, 
three years ago. His family, however, were some¬ 
where in the wilderness, and little was known of 
them. From what I could ascertain, they must now 
be living in very reduced circumstances — living 
as all pioneer settlers must do, dependent upon the 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


45 


good God for their daily bread. They were not 
aware that the money was left with me — deuce 
take it, I feel like a scoundrel! You see, sir, this 
family has vanished, like smoke in the sky. ” 

Berthoud spat nervously into a box of sawdust, 
and continued. 

66 1 feel a responsibility in the matter, naturally, 
since the money is theirs. Yet I cannot locate them. 
I have spared no pains, have sent out searchers, and 
all to no avail. Perhaps the family has been wiped 
out by Indians — perhaps it exists in some far 
corner of the territory. It just occurred to me, Mr. 
Muir, that you had mentioned proceeding to the 
farther settlements. In such case, you might pur¬ 
sue inquiries on my behalf.” 

66 Gladly,” said Muir, frowning a little in 
thought. “ Did you send out good men?” 

66 The best men whom I could engage, I assure 
you! Only last month returned one of the finest 
woodsmen on the border, with word that the family 
were completely lost to sight. You may have heard 
of Captain Philip Hogan. No better frontiersman 
exists.” 

66 Yes — I have heard of him.” 

Muir had started slightly at the name. Now he 
stared down at the table, a new gleam stirring in 
his gray eyes. His lips tightened a little. When he 


46 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


glanced up again, the change in his face was so 
perceptible that Berthoud was startled. 

66 Eh, sir? What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing.” Muir smiled, though not in mirth. 
“ The task appeals to me, Mr. Berthoud, and I will 
gladly accept it. But, I pray you, say nothing to 
Hogan or any other man about my undertaking the 
errand. We may discuss details tonight. Who 
was the gentleman in question?” 

“His name was Major Andre du Croix — an offi¬ 
cer under Lafayette, I believe, who settled in this 
country. He had a beautiful wife, a daughter of 
fifteen years, and a son of sixteen.” 

A swift flame leaped through Muir’s brain. 
Andre du Croix! He rose and bowed. 

“ You honor me, sir, and I shall be most happy 
to go upon this quest. So, then, adieu until dinner. 
I’ll spend the afternoon in viewing the town. Per¬ 
haps I shall find an investment for my money, eh?” 

He turned to the door. Once it closed behind 
him, his hand shot to his pocket. He brought forth 
a dirty, tattered bit of lace, and held it up to the 
light. For the hundredth time he looked at those 
broidered initials — “A. du C.” 

“ Now, more than ever, I wonder where I got 
this!” he mused, frowning. “Could it have be¬ 
longed to this Andre du Croix? No; it seems to be 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


47 


a bit of woman’s gear. Still, I must have gotten it 
that night at Lexington — and I was dicing with 
Hogan. Oh, fool, fool that I was to drink! What 
have I stumbled upon here? What clue has the 
cursed liquor driven from my memory?” 

With a gesture of despair, he went on to the 
clerk’s office, drew his money in government notes, 
and passed outside to inspect Louisville. Tom was 
not with him, being engaged in unpacking and 
pressing Muir’s clothes. 

The towns of Louisville and Shippingport, while 
two miles apart, were in reality so joined by cabins 
and farms as to be one city. Shippingport gained 
its name from lying at the foot of the Great Falls 
of the Ohio, while Louisville was above the falls. 
Thus, all boats that came to Louisville from the 
upper river had to be piloted down through the falls 
by one of two narrow channels, or else they must 
be landed and portaged down to Shippingport. The 
lower town, whose entire site was owned by Ber- 
thoud, was the clearing place for all goods which 
went to New Orleans or St. Louis from the entire 
Ohio country. 

Save for the Berthoud house and buildings, the 
Tarascon mills and rope-walk and a huddle of tav¬ 
erns and warehouses, there was little in Shipping- 
port to attract the interest of Muir. The place was 


48 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


filled with flatboat men, settlers bound downriver, 
and merchants; the river men were lounging or 
fighting or drinking in the rough laziness of their 
daily lives, filling the streets with brawls and oc¬ 
casionally with blood, for they knew no restraint. 

Yet, as Muir strode toward Louisville, more than 
one of those rudely brawling giants stared after him 
in admiration; the flatboat men had ever an eye for 
manliness. Muir lacked nothing of this, from his 
arrogantly uptilted chin to his firm stride. He was 
angry, and in anger his level gray eyes were like a 
driving force, while the keen lines of his profile 
had the edge of the tomahawk at his girdle. This 
anger, which had been inspired by the bare mention 
of Hogan’s name, soon passed away and became a 
lively interest in the scenes about him as he gained 
the upper town. He had heard much of the place, 
and needed no informant for cicerone. 

Louisville was built upon an elevated plain which 
gradually sloped up from the river. Muir halted 
at the lower end of town, where magnificent hang¬ 
ing gardens and terraces surrounded the stately 
brick Buttets mansion, and gazed out across the 
mile-wide Ohio. Beyond the falls and the low 
islands he could make out Clarksville, nestled 
under the Silver Creek hills; there dwelt the famed 
George Rogers Clark, now a crippled veteran who 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


49 


was drinking himself to death in a besotted old age. 

Turning, the Kentuckian strode on into the half- 
mile-long street which comprised Louisville. The 
town was not so large as Lexington, yet it was infin¬ 
itely more handsome and was fast nearing the day 
when it was to become famed as the city of fine 
mansions. Most of its three-storied brick houses 
had parapets along the roofs, enclosing gardens or 
promenades; and the courthouse, with its pillars 
and cupola, was accounted a very remarkable build¬ 
ing for the frontier. 

The day chanced to be a Saturday. Thus the 
big market was crowded with slaves from the coun¬ 
tryside, as well as with rivermen and townfolk of 
every character. Muir paused to fill his pipe. As 
he did so, he was attracted by the figure of a man 
who leaned quietly against a house wall nearby, 
smoking and studying the crowds. 

The man was a frontiersman of tremendous pro¬ 
portions, only his silvered hair betraying the fact 
that he must be well over fifty. His features were 
powerful in the extreme, criss-crossed by tiny 
wrinkles and marred by several scars. From be¬ 
neath bushy gray brows stuck forth great, wide- 
set eyes — not of the same warm gray as those of 
Muir, but colder, sterner, steelier — and those eyes 
held the fearless and simple assurance of a boy. 


50 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


The man had in his entire bearing something of a 
singular simplicity, yet mingled with this quality 
was a poise and strength which attracted the Ken¬ 
tuckian. 

“Friend, will you lend me fire?” inquired Muir. 
“ Flint and steel make slow work where a ready 
spark may be had.” 

“ Sartin, sartin!” the big frontiersman turned, 
and such charm lay in his cordial manner that it 
drove the ache from Muir’s heart. The latter lighted 
his pipe from the other one, then looked up. The 
eyes of the two men met and held, and suddenly 
Muir found the old boyish smile warming him and 
lighting up his own features. He liked this man 
strangely. 

66 You’re not from Kentucky?” he queried. 

“ No — up Ohio way.” The steely gaze swept 
over Muir, and the man jerked his head. “ From 
down thar, I reckon? Kaintuck?” 

“ Yes. From Lexington. This is quite a fine 
town, eh?” 

“ It ain’t fer me, stranger.” The other man 
laughed. “ I come here cl’ar from Ohio to locate 
a feller. Found him gone to N’Orleens with all 
my money. Ain’t seed a soul I know. It’s a ’tarnal 
stiff blow to me, I tell you.” 

“ You mean he stole your money?” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


51 


“ Stole? I reckon he don’t steal from old Sime! 
No, sir. Ye see, I got a passel o’ land in Ohio. 
This feller, he had a sick woman and a boat o’ ter- 
baccer to sell, but he was plumb stuck, upriver a 
spell. So I riz all the money thar was to raise and 
holp him along to here.” 

By dint of further questioning, Muir extracted a 
remarkable story. It appeared that the frontiers¬ 
man, who called himself Sime, had actually mort¬ 
gaged his farm in order to help a total stranger who 
had come from upriver with a sick wife and a dam¬ 
aged boat. The stranger had, however, been honest 
enough. Coming down to Louisville, he had sold 
his cargo at a good profit and had left word with a 
merchant for Sime that, having secured a flatboat 
run to New Orleans, he would be back in a few 
months with the money. While honest, the stranger 
obviously had small regard for Sime’s exigencies. 

Sime had been met with this message on reaching 
Louisville in the wake of the stranger. Meantime, 
he had not a cent with which to pay his back taxes 
and buy his spring seed, and before the stranger 
could return from New Orleans, his farm would be 
sold for the back taxes which he had neglected to 
pay. Further, his mortgage had been made out for 
only ninety days, much of which time was now 
consumed. 


52 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“You don’t seem much worried over it,” said 
Muir, observing the nonchalance of the other man. 
Sime puffed soberly at his pipe. 

“Ain’t no use, friend. I ain’t never went back 
on the A’mighty, nor has He went back on me. If 
so be it’s His will to turn out old Sime, out I goes. 
If not, then it’s sartin that all hell an’ high water 
can’t turn me out! Anyways, it’s too late fer that 
spring plowin’. I reckon I got to go on a good hunt 
and let things drift. Ohio’s too dumed thick settled 
fer game. Lots left on the Wabash, though.” 

Muir perceived that the man, speaking in earnest, 
was simple and guileless as a child. There was 
something about this backwoodsman that fascinated 
him — something in the man’s forthright character, 
in his evident strength of body and mind, in his 
unassuming but steady poise. The Kentuckian was 
unaware that he himself possessed that same fas¬ 
cination for the other man. He did not observe the 
sudden warmth which had filled the steely eyes 
when he had smiled; he did not observe that this 
frontiersman in the stained golden deerskin had 
suddenly changed from a stern aloofness to a cor¬ 
dial confidence. 

“How much do you need, Sime?” he asked, his 
hand touching the roll of notes that reposed in the 
pocket of his hunting shirt. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


53 


“Well, I give a law shark a mortgage on my 
passel o’ land fer five hundred dollars. That much 
might cl’ar me, and ag’in it mightn’t. The A’mighty 
didn’t give me a head fer figgers, I reckon.” 

Now, David Muir had often acted on sheer im¬ 
pulse, only to suffer for it afterward. He hesitated 
for an instant before the impulse that now assailed 
him, and then yielded to it. He felt drawn to this 
man. Moreover, he knew the type well, and com¬ 
prehended that Sime was as strictly honest as the 
blue sky itself. 

“ Here,” he said quickly, taking out his roll of 
notes and stripping off the requisite amount. 
“ Here’s six hundred, Sime —” 

With astounding swiftness the frontiersman 
whirled, one hand flashing to the ornate tomahawk 
at his waist, the steely eyes flooding with such ter¬ 
rible anger that Muir stood transfixed. 

As he met the surprised gaze of the Kentuckian, 
however, Sime paused, checked himself. In the 
clear, steady gaze of Muir he read the truth, and a 
flush crept athwart his bronzed and high-boned 
cheeks. 

“ I done you wrong, friend, I did for sartin,” he 
said quietly. “ I thought as how you figgered on 
givin’ old Sime charity, and I don’t claim no charity 
’cept from Him up above. Be you in arnest? 


54 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


66 Of course.” Muir smiled in comprehension, 
and the smile transformed him. “ Take the money 
as a loan, Sime. I’ve just sold some tobacco and 
could put it to no better purpose.” 

The other, almost reluctantly, extended a huge 
hand and slowly gripped the roll of notes. Muir 
continued without pause. 

“You spoke of a hunt over to the Wabash coun¬ 
try. Well, I’d like to go over that way myself, 
Sime, and I’ve seldom seen a man I’d sooner have 
as companion than yourself. What say you? Shall 
we take the trail together?” 

The other did not reply for a long moment. He 
stood gazing straight at Muir, a frown of concentra¬ 
tion drawing down his bushy gray brows. Then he 
nodded abstractedly and furnished an explanation 
for his silence. 

“ Oh, sure! I’m figgerin’ on time. I got to git 
back upriver, then back here — s’pose we say two 
weeks, eh? Would that sarve you, friend?” 

Muir assented. “Yes. I’ll be at Mr. Berthoud’s 
house in Shippingport. My name’s Muir. Will 
you come for me there?” 

“ Aye, two weeks from today,” affirmed Sime 
positively. “ And may the A’mighty take keer on 
you, friend Muir! You sartinly be the likeliest 
younker I’ve seed fer a long day. Your sarvint —” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


55 


“ Eh?” exclaimed Muir, as the other man turned 
to depart abruptly. 66 You’re not going this min¬ 
ute?” 

“ Sure. I figger I can git my traps, ketch a boat 
upriver this a’ternoon, and save time.” 

“All right! In two weeks, then.” 

Big Sime waved a hand as he departed toward 
the upper end of town, where the cove of Beargrass 
Creek lay just above the falls. Muir gazed after the 
stalwart figure until it was lost to sight in the crowd, 
and noted that many persons turned to gaze after it 
likewise. Then a sudden and joyous laugh broke 
from him. 

“ Damme if I so much as thought of asking his 
name or home — Sime could be only his given 
name, of course! And six hundred of my dollars 
gone with him! I’ll lay odds that honest Berthoud 
will call me a rank fool when I tell him of this!” 

He slowly retraced his steps to Shippingport, 
somewhat ruefully fingering the remnants of his 
fortune as he went. Yet he did not in the least 
regret his impulsive action. Recalling that remark¬ 
able face, those keenly brave eyes, the whole figure 
of the man, Muir had no doubt as to the honesty of 
his new friend. Neither did he have the slightest 
doubt that, should Sime meet another family in 
distress before regaining his home, the money 


56 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


would be cheerfully tendered in alleviation. The 
thought was amusing, but wholesome. 

Muir said nothing of the incident until, that eve¬ 
ning, Mistress Berthoud and the family had with¬ 
drawn and he was sitting across the table with the 
rosy-cheeked merchant and a decanter of sherry. 
Then he laughingly related the story. Somewhat 
to his astonishment, as he described his meeting 
with Sime, Berthoud bent no frown upon him; in¬ 
stead, the merchant seemed fired with sudden 
interest. 

“And you learned nothing more of his name, 
sir?” 

“ Devil take me, I forgot all about it until he 
had gone!” Muir chuckled. “ Also, he stated that 
he knew not a soul in Louisville.” 

“ There spoke the man, Mr. Muir!” Berthoud’s 
ruddy face broke into a slow smile. “ I had heard 
that he was in town. He was devout, perhaps? 
Wore a very handsome tomahawk at his girdle?” 

“ Why, yes! You know him?” 

Berthoud broke into a roar of laughter. 

“Know him? Why, twenty years ago men would 
have given their fortunes to be seen with him in 
public! Even today, I warrant you, he was being 
pointed out on every hand. Sir, have no fear for 
your money —” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 57 

“ I have none,” broke in Muir drily. 46 Who is 
he, then?” 

46 The most famous borderer in the country, 
barring only Colonel Boone. I congratulate you on 
having today won the friendship of General Simon 
Kenton. Mr. Muir, a glass with you to his health!” 

The Kentuckian was too astounded even to drink 
the toast. Simon Kenton! Through all the western 
lands that name was far-famed, coupled with the 
name of Daniel Boone. But old Colonel Boone had 
been driven to Missouri, while Kenton remained on 
his Ohio farm; Boone had long since given up fight¬ 
ing, while Kenton still scouted as of old, still risked 
his life in every corner of the wilderness. 

44 He’s coming back here in two weeks,” said 
Muir slowly, 44 and we’re going to the Wabash coun¬ 
try together.” 

44 Excellent! And you’ll look out for the du 
Croix family?” 

44 Of course. By the way, do you recall the 
names of the two children?” 

Muir thought best to say nothing of that scrap 
of lace in his pocket. He could not swear that it 
had come from Hogan, and there were too many 
French settlers scattered through the country to 
admit of his mental conjecture being entirely prob¬ 
able. 


58 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Yes,” rejoined Berthoud thoughtfully, “ I re¬ 
member those of the children; that of the mother, 
I never knew. The girl was called Alice, and the 
boy Jean. As I remember them, both were fair of 
hue, and the boy was a handsome young chap, 
although badly spoiled and headstrong.” 

Except that the du Croix family had been entirely 
lost to sight during the past three years, the mer¬ 
chant could tender no further information. But a 
grim thought was in the mind of Muir. If, by any 
chance, he had procured that bit of lace from 
Hogan on the last drunken night of revelry—where 
had Hogan obtained it? If, by any chance, Hogan 
had obtained it from Alixe du Croix — why had 
Hogan lied to Berthoud about finding the family? 
If, as seemed certain, Hogan knew of the money 
awaiting the du Croix family — what devil’s game 
was being played? 

66 When Kenton’s friend returns with the money, 
and it is paid over,” said Muir quietly, forcing 
himself back to facts, “ may I impose on you to 
the extent of handling it for me? We shall arrange 
to have it all pass through your hands. And I shall 
leave my effects here, if I may — buckskin is 
enough for the trail.” 

Berthoud was hugely delighted to assist his guest, 
being charmed with the new friend Clay had sent 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 59 

him, and he vowed that Muir should have no loss 
of income from his hand. 

When retiring that night, a very startling idea 
occurred to the Kentuckian. He remembered 
Black Sand and all the strange creature had said; 
he remembered what the Indian had said; and he 
remembered what Simon Kenton had this very day 
said. 

“ Those men are all of the wilderness, but they 
are men of achievement and influence,” he mused 
in the darkness. 66 1 have met other men equally 
remarkable in the taverns of Lexington. But I do 
not recall that in the taverns there was much talk 
of God — not, at least, as those three men talked. 
I wonder, now —” 

Still wondering, he fell asleep. 


CHAPTER IV 


Give Tongue to a friend and Teeth to a foe; 

This is the creed that the wolfings know! 

In this thirty-fifth year of the independence of 
the United States, when the word was invariably 
capitalized and that same capital 66 1 ” was a 
proudly emphasized rule of life, whiskey was as 
water along the border. Especially was this true 
in Kentucky, where as yet no blue grass flour¬ 
ished, but where each settler distilled his own com 
liquor. 

In Louisville, David Muir found self-restraint 
hard, but he mastered the craving. While forming 
no resolution whatever, he steadily refrained from 
touching 64 fire-water.” Hardest of all were the two 
weeks which he spent with Berthoud, awaiting the 
return of Sime Kenton. Here whiskey was plenti¬ 
ful; it was a part of every meal, and between meals 
was discussed with abandon. The flatboat men 
consumed huge quantities, and no man of them was 
ashamed of being drunk. While ashore, in fact, 
this was their normal condition. 

Yet there was a darker side. Shippingport was 
filled with these rivermen, who were no more than 
60 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


61 


huge, childish animals. No weaklings could sur¬ 
vive among them. They had no regard for the law, 
and the law very carefully forebore to interfere 
with them. Fighting was their pastime. With half 
a hundred of such men drunk at one time, Shipping- 
port did not lack for excitement. It was rarely that 
these drunken brawls did not end in a knife thrust 
or in gouged eyes. 

Moreover, every flatboat man was a crack rifle 
shot, and the Indians who came to town for liquor 
were heavy sufferers. One afternoon, Muir saw a 
drunken Winnebago shot down to settle a wager; 
the victim received four bullets, each of which en¬ 
tered his left eye. The groups of rivermen were 
wildly delighted, and of course the murderers were 
untouched. The shooting of an Indian was not 
classed as murder in any sense of the word. At 
other times men stood in the street and, at fifty 
yards’ distance, punctured tin cups and snuffed 
candles on the heads of companions. As an exhibi¬ 
tion of shooting, this was marvelous work, but on 
one occasion a drunken contestant shot too low, and 
did it intentionally, whereat the sport was stopped 
for the day and all hands got drunk at the funeral. 
Here, again, the law dared not intervene. 

True to his word, Sime Kenton arrived at the 
house of Mr. Berthoud exactly two weeks from the 


62 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


day of his departure. Muir was expecting him, for 
he had discovered that the man’s very name stood 
for integrity and a sterling honesty which was above 
all suspicion. With warmth in his heart, Muir 
gripped Kenton’s hand and looked into the steely 
gray eyes; seldom indeed had he been so drawn to 
a man as he was to this old frontiersman. 

That same morning they arranged with Berthoud 
all matters relating to the financial tangle, and the 
merchant undertook to secure and handle the funds 
which were to come back from New Orleans with 
Kenton’s friend. The borderer was informed of the 
du Croix mystery, but had never heard of such a 
family. He was more than glad, however, to take 
up the search with Muir, as it gave them a definite 
object for their wilderness jaunt. 

“ If you wish to start at once,” said Berthoud, 
“ I would suggest that you go by boat to the settle¬ 
ment at Blue River, forty-odd miles downstream. 
Governor Harrison has built a sawmill near there, 
and it leaves only a hundred miles to Vincennes, 
as the Louisville post road crosses Blue River —■” 

66 All that ain’t to the p’int,” interposed Kenton 
bluntly. “ I don’t figger much on roads and such. 
Howsoever, I reckon as we’ll take a boat fer a bit, 
to save time.” 

64 Then Mike Fink’s craft leaves this afternoon. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


63 


I do not wish to hurry you, gentlemen; my house is 
yours as long as you would stay. But I know that 
Mr. Muir is impatient to be started. While I can¬ 
not recommend Mike Fink personally, I know that 
as a riverman he has no equal. Should you so de¬ 
sire, I can engage passage for you with him.” 

Muir glanced at Kenton, who nodded slightly. 

“Very well,” assented the Kentuckian. “I 
thank you, Mr. Berthoud, and accept with pleasure. 
Now I must walk up to Louisville and attend to my 
outfit. Sime, if you can spare an hour, come along 
and pick me out a rifle.” 

In expectation of the other man’s arrival, Muir 
had that morning changed to his woods garb of 
buckskin and moccasins. Accordingly, the two set 
out immediately, walking along the road that led 
from the port to Louisville. On the way to town, 
Muir recalled his meeting with Black Sand, and 
recounted the matter to Kenton, explaining how he 
had given away his rifle and horn. Kenton listened 
gravely enough, but made no comment. He exam¬ 
ined the tag of leather which Muir had sewed to the 
wrist of his hunting shirt, and only shook his head. 
Guessing shrewdly that Kenton must know Black 
Sand, Muir asked no questions but bided his 
friend’s time for speaking. Wherein he gave proof 
of wisdom. 


64 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Proceeding to the store of Audubon & Rosier, 
they were waited upon by the senior member of the 
firm. Muir did not know him personally, but had 
more than once seen him at Lexington and had ad¬ 
mired both his good looks and his graceful danc¬ 
ing. Audubon, however, was notorious as a lazy 
fellow, who preferred wearing fine French linen, 
loafing in the woods and sketching birds, to con¬ 
ducting his store and counting farthings as a good 
tradesman should. 

Having plenty of money left, Muir was soon pro¬ 
vided with an excellent rifle, to the selection of 
which Kenton gave great care, and a new horn. The 
old frontiersman himself bought a spare horn of 
powder, being otherwise fully equipped. 

Leaving the store first, Kenton suddenly checked 
himself and re-entered the doorway, colliding with 
Muir. He waved the latter back and uttered a quiet 
word. 

“ Friend, thar’s a feller cornin’ this-a-way as I 
don’t like. Mebbe we’d best leave him git inside 
afore we go out.” 

He stepped to one side, accordingly. Muir was 
about to follow suit, when he looked outside and 
saw the approaching figure which Kenton had first 
descried. It was that of Captain Hogan, clad in a 
mixture of regimentals and border costume. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


65 


Involuntarily, the Kentuckian’s hand dropped to 
his pistol, and he half drew the weapon. Then he 
checked himself, trembling a little; he was very 
angry, but shame was yet stronger upon him. This 
man, his father’s murderer, he himself had diced 
with, had flung to this man all his patrimony! He 
had drunk with this man, ignorant of the past — 
and he could not step out and shoot him down in 
cold blood. Moreover, Clay’s words still burned 
in Muir’s brain. He had no mind to be hanged for 
murder, and certainly he had not in any way re¬ 
deemed his recent disgraceful past. No, he was not 
worthy to take up that quarrel as yet. 

One more thing that gave him pause was the 
scrap of lace in his pocket. There lay a mystery, 
he thought grimly, and resolved that he would 
swiftly make his position quite clear to Captain 
Philip Hogan. 

At this instant Hogan entered the store, perceived 
the figure of Muir, and stopped short. His hand¬ 
some face lighted in a smile, and his hand went out 
in cordial greeting. Muir ignored the gesture and 
looked into Hogan’s eyes; under the blazing fury 
of his face, Hogan took an involuntary step 
backward. 

“ Mr. Hogan,” said Muir, his voice tensed but 
quiet, “you need not proffer your hand to me in 


66 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


future. I have learned that it was you who, ten 
years back, basely murdered my father. You had 
best take heed of me hereafter, sir, for on our next 
meeting I shall shoot you down like the cowardly 
cur that you are.” 

At the words, Hogan’s smile swept into a sneer; 
but it was an evil sneer, and the dark eyes gleamed 
out at Muir with a sudden lurid malignance in their 
depths, like the deep and fathomless eyes of a 
copperhead. 

“Thankee, drunken cub,” he said in reply, with 
a snarl. 66 Losing at dice has bred swift hatred, 
eh? Nay, trouble me not with your lies of ancient 
doings, you drunken fool! Get out of my way and 
let me by.” 

“ One thing more.” Muir’s voice was still very 
quiet — so quiet that the terrible anger in his eyes 
was marvelous to see. “ I believe that in Lexington 
you dropped a scrap of lace which had belonged 
to Madame Alixe du Croix—” 

He broke off abruptly. At these final words, 
Hogan’s face turned absolutely livid. Without a 
sound, the man whipped forth a hidden pistol and 
threw it up. Stark murder shone in his eyes — but 
a deadly, biting voice caused him to whip a glance 
over his shoulder. 

“ Keerful wi’ that thar thing, Hogan!” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


67 


A long, brown rifle barrel was held like a rock 
within a foot of Hogan’s ear, and over it looked the 
keen, steely eyes of Sime Kenton. 

“ Now,” drawled the frontiersman, 66 you pesky, 
lowdown varmint — git! And git quick!” 

Hogan, staring into the eyes of Kenton, slowly 
put away his pistol. Still, he displayed no trace of 
fear, but only a terrible malevolence that was devil¬ 
ish in its very revelation. 

“ Mr. Simon Kenton!” he said, and his white 
teeth flashed out in a slow, cruel smile. “Your 
servant, sir! Sorry to find you in such bad com¬ 
pany. So you are still at my heels, are you? For 
your own sake, I trust that we shall not meet again 
speedily, sir. As for you, drunken cub,” and his 
eyes flickered to Muir, “ I can safely predict your 
fate, since you plainly appear to be hound for the 
border. What mean your words about a scrap of 
lace?” 

Muir produced the scrap of filmy lace. “ You 
recognize this?” 

“No!” Hogan inspected it, then shrugged with 
slow insolence. “No!” 

“ Thar you lie,” put in Kenton. “ Git, afore I 
lose my temper!” 

His finger pressed the trigger of the rifle so that 
the flint actually quivered. Hogan saw it, and went 


68 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


whiter still; then, without a word further, turned 
and strode from the store. 

66 The pesky snake!” muttered Kenton, uncock¬ 
ing his rifle and paying no heed to the alarmed 
Audubon. “ Come along, friend Dave.” 

They stepped out into the street. The figure of 
Hogan was visible, walking rapidly toward Ship- 
pingport; and at Kenton’s suggestion they turned 
into the first tavern and took chairs in the empty 
travelers’ room for a quiet talk. 

“ Git some b’ar’s grease on your tongue, Dave,” 
said Kenton when they had filled their pipes. “How 
come you to know that thar cuss?” 

Muir told him frankly, also relating what Henry 
Clay had said of Hogan on that last night in Vaux- 
hall Garden. He went on to give an idea of his sus¬ 
picion anent the bit of lace. The fact that Hogan 
had, at bare mention of it, flashed into such deadly 
rage was clear evidence that the scout was engaged 
in some tricky transaction involving the lost du 
Croix family. In this theory Kenton concurred. 
Still, since they had no proof which would involve 
Hogan under the law, the two friends agreed to say 
nothing of the matter to Berthoud. 

Kenton had no pleasant things to tell of Hogan, 
whom he knew well through Indian friends, of 
whom Tecumthe was one. Tecumthe’s twin, the 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


69 


savage-hearted Prophet, was a thorn in the side of 
the greater brother. While Tecumthe was an advo¬ 
cate of peace, the Prophet urged the tribes to war; 
while Tecumthe wished to lead his followers into 
an altruistic state of farming and hunting, the 
Prophet called for “a flame on the border.” His 
claims to miraculous powers were fully believed, 
not only by Indians but by many of the whites. 

Hogan, ostensibly a scout under Harrison and an 
officer in the militia, was secretly a friend of the 
Prophet. This did not argue him a renegade, but 
it did argue that Hogan was inimical to the one per¬ 
son on the frontier whom red men and white alike 
respected — Tecumthe. Kenton understood that 
Hogan, by aid and connivance of certain chiefs, 
had been concerned in whiskey-running to the In¬ 
dian towns, even to that model town on the Wabash. 
This had gained him wealth and influence among 
the tribes, but had made Tecumthe’s friends his 
bitter foes. Tecumthe himself had warned Hogan 
not to enter the Indian country under penalty of 
death. 

The Prophet might not favor the liquor traffic, 
but was beyond doubt violently in heat for war, and 
was hand in glove with the British, who, from their 
post at Malden, were inflaming the war party. 
Hogan, in his trafficking, was said to have brought 


70 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


many British muskets to the Indian towns; of this, 
Sime Kenton ardently desired to obtain proof, in 
order that he might accuse Hogan openly before 
General Harrison. It did not occur either to Kenton 
or to Muir that Hogan’s activities might have a 
more terrible and sinister motive than that of any 
personal profit. 

“ Well,” and Muir rose as men entered the tavern 
and the bell on the roof banged out its midday call, 
“it’s time we were getting back to Berthoud’s. We’ll 
have enough chances to talk over the matter later 
on. 

“ Sure. You take good keer o’ that thar bit o’ 
leather,” and Kenton touched the leather tag on 
Muir’s sleeve. “ Put it back on its thong like it was 
in the fust place.” 

“Why?” 

“ Tell you later.” 

Kenton was disquieted by the stares of the other 
men, and hastened to leave the place. They walked 
back to Shippingport in silence, and gathered for 
Muir’s last meal with the hospitable Berthoud 
family. 

When the final glass of wine had been drunk, 
Berthoud donned his beaver, Uncle Tom was sum¬ 
moned, and the merchant escorted the three leather- 
clad men down to the landing. Here lay a huge 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


71 


flatboat, piled high with hogsheads of tobacco, with 
fruit, with cured ginseng, and with kegs of whiskey. 
Aside from this there was little else, since this boat 
was going through to New Orleans without a stop 
except at St. Louis. 

Here it was that Muir, through the rosy-cheeked 
Berthoud, met the man who was later destined to 
bear a redoubtable name along the whole Missis¬ 
sippi — the man who was to become famed for his 
crimes, for his reckless daring, for his utter disre¬ 
gard of all law. 

Mike Fink made no return of Berthoud’s bow, 
but greeted his passengers with a grunt. Even 
among the big rivermen he bulked large, not in 
height alone but in all ways; yet his huge-boned 
frame held no superfluous flesh. His countenance 
was brutal, bloated with hard drinking, altogether 
forbidding. None the less, no man on the river 
was sooner trusted with a rich cargo than Mike 
Fink. 

The boatman bent a black look on Uncle Tom, 
but did not protest his coming aboard. Then he 
gave Berthoud a glum nod. 

“ Git ashore. You-all come jest in time. Castin’ 
off* now.” 

The merchant shook hands with Kenton and 
Muir, wished them Godspeed, and hurried ashore. 


72 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Fink turned and bellowed orders to his men, who 
leaped to the lines. A moment more and the great 
flathoat, her sweeps out on either side, was slowly 
moving into the river current. 

64 1 don’t like that feller,” observed Kenton, gaz¬ 
ing intently at the captain. 

Muir shared the feeling, but led the frontiersman 
forward to view the river. There, perched on the 
same hogsheads he had brought to Louisville, the 
Kentuckian filled his pipe and watched with quick 
interest as the lumbering craft gathered speed and 
swept out upon her long journey. He almost re¬ 
gretted that he was not going the whole distance to 
New Orleans with her. 

Suddenly, without preamble, Kenton touched the 
leather tag on Muir’s arm and explained its signifi¬ 
cance. 

44 Thar’s a right smart little war goin’ on along 
the frontier,” he said. 44 Specially up in Indianny. 
It ain’t no reg’lar tribal war, but a lot o’ killin’ is 
going on. So Tecumthe gives his friends a tag like 
that, fer a sign to all Injuns — his white friends, 
I mean.” 

44 Then Tecumthe was the Indian whom I met 
with Black Sand?” queried Muir, not greatly aston¬ 
ished. Kenton nodded, and went on to explain 
matters. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


73 


By giving Tecumthe his rifle and horn, David 
Muir had rendered the Indian a service that would 
probably insure his own safety along the frontier. 
The whole Indian border, according to the old 
scout, was ready to break into a flame, and this was 
largely the fault of Governor Harrison. 

By the last Indian treaty, criminals of each race 
were to be surrendered to justice. Tecumthe’s allied 
redskins were mistreated or murdered on every 
hand by the whites, and never a white man had 
been handed over for punishment. No sooner, 
however, was a settler scalped by the red men, than 
Tecumthe brought in the guilty parties to the Vin¬ 
cennes fort. The chieftain had now grown tired of 
this one-sided justice. Further, white settlers had 
encroached on the Indian lands, and complaints to 
Harrison brought no redress. The governor was 
helpless to make his troops enforce the law at the 
expense of any whites. 

The secret at the bottom of the whole thing was 
that the Prophet’s town, as Tecumthe’s famous set¬ 
tlement was called, was located only two hundred 
miles from Vincennes — and had been purposely 
located thus close in order to show Harrison that 
no strife was intended. The chieftain’s ambition 
to uplift his race, however, had put the whole bor¬ 
der in panic. To the whites, Indians were only 


74 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


wild animals to be killed at sight; and to see these 
Shawano and Kickapoo braves returning to the vig¬ 
orous, simple life of their ancestors had roused fear 
and hatred throughout the border. Men said that 
Tecumthe was building up a great war machine to 
destroy the settlements, and that he was secretly 
assembling forces for a great blow at Vincennes and 
the Ohio country. In reality, they were enraged at 
the chief for his determined opposition to the liquor 
traffic, and the whiskey traders were busily at work 
fomenting the fears of the settlements and striving 
to cause a war that would wipe out Tecumthe and 
his town. 

Kenton had explained thus far when one of the 
boatmen approached and with scarcely veiled inso¬ 
lence stated that Fink wanted them in the stem at 
once. They were now seven miles below Louisville, 
and were just opposite Sullivan’s Ferry, where ran 
the post road to Vincennes. 

46 Our worthy captain waxes great,” said Muir, 
and rose suddenly, angered by the insolent stare of 
the boatman. 46 Wipe that look off your face, you 
rogue!” 

Under the flame of his gray eyes, the boatman 
stepped back in confusion. But, as he turned and 
shuffled away, he flung back a Parthian shaft. 

44 You-all better git aft! Else you’ll get ducked.” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 75 

Muir looked at Kenton, to find the latter quietly- 
priming his rifle. 

“ Does this signify trouble, Sime? What does 
he mean by getting ducked?” 

Kenton’s wide lips relaxed in a slight grin. 

“ I reckon, friend Dave, thar’s a drinkin’ match 
going on. Man what gits drunk fust, gits soused in 
the river. Let’s go see.” 

“ You’re not going to enter the match?” 

“ Me?” The old hunter chuckled. 66 No one 
ain’t seed old Sime drink fer a long day, friend! 
No, I reckon that ’tamal skunk Hogan has put this 
feller Fink up to some dirty work. Let’s go see. 
We can load into that thar skiff towin’ behint, if 
trouble comes.” 

“ But in that case,” objected Muir, “we’d not get 
down the river —” 

“ Who wants to git downriver? Not me. I don’t 
hanker after no water trail. Quicker I git ashore 
into the woods, the better. Come on, Dave!” 

Muir nodded to Uncle Tom, and all three walked 
back to the stern of the flatboat. 

There, seated in a circle, they found the four 
men of the crew with Mike Fink, a jug of whiskey 
to hand and rifles close by. All grinned expectantly 
as the passengers approached. Fink waved his hand 
jovially and addressed Muir in particular. 


76 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Sot, friends, an’ drink!” 

46 Thanks,” rejoined Muir. 66 But we’re not 
drinking, Cap’n.” 

64 What?” Fink came lightly to his feet and stared 
at Muir in mingled surprise and ferocity. 44 What? 
You ’lows we ain’t good enough fer to drink with 
you-all?” 

44 Not a bit of it.” Muir watched him steadily. 
44 No. I said that we don’t care to drink. And 
we’re not drinking.” 

44 Man, I ’lows right here that you’s a damned 
aristocrat!” Fink shot out his heavy under jaw and 
advanced a step, his fists clenched. 44 Man, I don’t 
like your face! Say your prayers, you gray-eyed, 
long-legged alligator! ’Tarnal death to me, but 
I’m a’going to l’arn you-all who Mike Fink is!” 

He concluded this speech with a wild whoop, 
relaxed and bent for a drink from the jug. Muir 
perceived that a fight was not only unavoidable, but 
doubtless prearranged. The four men of the crew 
were all on the wide grin. Kenton and Uncle Tom 
had stepped to one side, the old negro anxious and 
perturbed, the hunter inscrutable of face. Muir 
and Fink were left facing each other at the stern of 
the craft beside the long sweep. 

44 Whoopee!” Fink straightened up, leaped in 
the air, and cracked his heels. 44 Man, say your 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


77 


prayers! I’m agoin’ to eat you, gun, tom axe and 
all! I’m agoin’ to claw you! Hold up them fore¬ 
legs, you white-livered aristocrat! Cock-a-doodle- 
doo! Grab me by the tail, you-all, whilst I claws 
this yere skunk —” 

The Kentuckian understood perfectly that once 
this braggadocio was terminated, Fink would be at 
him in earnest; and, once the brawl started, it would 
be a finish fight that knew neither rules, science nor 
mercy. So, while Fink was still bellowing out his 
peroration, Muir stooped to lay his rifle on the 
deck. 

Then, rising in one swift, forward leap from the 
boards, he brought up his fist with the whole spring 
of his body behind it, driving himself bodily into 
the air. He came up beneath the widely swinging 
arms of Fink. His fist cracked into the burly jaw 
with a force that numbed his whole arm, and as 
the shock jerked him backward, he saw Fink go 
flying headforemost over the stem of the boat into 
the river. 

Instantly the four men were rising, gripping their 
rifles—only to find that Kenton and the Negro had 
already covered them. Muir, panting with the effort 
of his exertion, caught up his own rifle and laughed 
slightly. 

66 Tom, go pick up that big scoundrel.” 


78 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Tom grinned and drew in the skiff, handing his 
rifle to Kenton. He got into the boat, loosed the line, 
and paddled to where Fink was splashing mightily 
and yelling for help, now far astern of the flatboat. 
Ten minutes later the dripping and disheveled cap¬ 
tain crawled aboard to look into Kenton’s rifle. 

‘T reckon we’ll leave you here, cap,” drawled the 
frontiersman. “Dave, sling them guns overboard, 
and we’ll mosey along.” 

While the five men cursed and raved in impotent 
fury, Muir tossed their rifles over the side. Then, 
joining Kenton, he climbed into the skiff and 
glanced back at the raging Mike Fink, while Tom 
struck out for the Indiana shore. 

46 My regards to Mr. Hogan,” he called. 44 And 
a merry voyage to you!” 

44 Marse Dave,” and Tom grinned widely over 
his paddle, 44 you suttinly is some man, suh!” 

Sime Kenton chuckled assent. 


CHAPTER V 


Who hnoweth not his trail 
Findeth somewhere a Grail. 

The three companions landed ten miles west of 
Sullivan’s Ferry, and camped in the woods for the 
night. At dawn Tom brought in a deer, and over 
a broiled venison steak the line of march was 
discussed. 

“ Thar’s four ways to go,” said Kenton. “ Fust, 
by the Injun trace from Henderson to Vincennes. 
Next, by the trace from the Yeller Banks to the old 
Delaware village what ain’t no more. Third, by the 
post road to Vincennes.” 

“ Well?” demanded Muir as the other paused. 
“ What is the fourth way?” 

“ By leavin’ them roads, friend Dave, and 
keepin’ to the woods. North o’ Vincennes is Injuns, 
cl’ar to Fort Dearborn. All the durned tribes a 
man ever seed is crowded into this country, betwixt 
the whites and the Sioux.” 

“ But the du Croix family must be up there,” 
objected Muir. “ They left Louisville in 1860. 
They are either up there or dead — and they may 
be dead.” 


79 


80 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


46 They ain’t dead nohow,” retorted Kenton. 
“ Hogan found them Doo Craws through his Injun 
friends, I reckon. Likely the family struck out into 
the Injun country and settled; lots o’ folks, ’spe¬ 
cially French, takes chances that-a-way. Mind, 
though, we may be follerin’ a false trail.” 

This was a possibility, since they had small 
grounds on which to base their suspicions of Hogan. 
Finally Kenton flatly stated that they had better 
avoid Vincennes, keep to the woods, and see what 
news they could pick up near the Prophet’s Town. 
Muir assented, and comprehending that the hunter 
had some objective in view of which he did not wish 
to speak at present, was content to let Kenton direct 
the march. With this, they broke camp. 

Now followed a week of such travel as Muir had 
never known — travel through virgin forest, their 
only food what they shot on the way, and with never 
a sign of settlers. They twice met Indians, who 
were hunting, but these merely exchanged a few 
words with Kenton and then disappeared. 

To Muir, all danger seemed very far away, yet 
he found Kenton ever on the alert, and a master of 
such woodscraft as he had never dreamed hitherto. 
The stir of a leaf, the scratch on a tree trunk, the 
very winds themselves, seemed freighted with mes¬ 
sages for the frontiersman. Yet Kenton was com- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


81 


placently unboastful as regarded his own powers. 

“ I reckon the A’mighty figgered on presarvin’ 
my life, friend Dave, and so l’arned me the wilder¬ 
ness way to save Himself trouble. If I do say it, I 
ain’t never seed the Injun as could lay over me.” 

Before that week was up, David Muir found his 
endurance taxed to the utmost; and this despite the 
fact that in sheer physical strength he was the equal 
of Sime Kenton. Uncle Tom managed to maintain 
without difficulty the terrific pace set by the hunter, 
for the old negro was a natural woodsman and was 
well trained to the forest. There was no pause for 
hunting — when they wanted meat, Kenton whistled 
in a turkey or Muir barked a squirrel. The Ken¬ 
tuckian asked no questions about their destination; 
he trusted all to Kenton, who appeared to have a 
very definite idea of their course. 

Only once did Kenton unbosom himself as to the 
cause of their speed — and this proved to be no 
other than Captain Hogan. It seemed very likely 
that Hogan was bound for the frontier, especially 
since learning that Muir knew of the du Croix 
family; therefore Kenton was resolved to reach 
the Prophet’s Town ahead of the scout. But the 
three companions were not destined to attain their 
goal in such fashion. 

At the end of the week, Kenton one night an- 


82 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


nounced that at dawn they would proceed sepa¬ 
rately up the stream which they were then following. 
They had reached the headwaters of the west fork 
of the White River and were far north of Vin¬ 
cennes, but were a considerable distance east and 
south of the Prophet’s Town. 

64 Why proceed separately?” queried the puz¬ 
zled Muir, feeling somewhat vexed that Kenton pre¬ 
served so strict a silence as to the immediate object 
of their trip. 

46 So’s to find a big elm tree with a cross blazed 
on it, right-hand side o’ this crick,” said Kenton, 
and grinned. Uncle Tom was watching him with 
bulging eyes. 44 1 ain’t never been here, but I been 
directed by Black Sand —” 

44 Oh, lawdy, I knowed it!” groaned the big 
negro. 44 Marse Dave, is you-all gwine take up 
wid dem ghostesses an’ hobblegobs —” 

44 Keep quiet!” said Muir, though not without a 
twitch of the lips. 44 Then you know the man, 
Sime?” 

44 Sartin,” Kenton nodded. 44 I’ve seed him a 
few times. Find that thar elm and climb it. After 
you’ve clomb her you’ll sight a hill to the nor’east. 
On that thar hill is Black Sand’s settlement. Fust 
one of us to sight the elm, give three turkey calls.” 

At this, Muir would not be denied, but pressed 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


83 


the old scout with questions. He finally elicited the 
information that Black Sand possessed a cabin and 
clearing which were held inviolate by all Indians, 
whether Shawano, Wea or Wyandot. Black Sand 
was regarded as touched by the Great Spirit, and 
unless by his explicit invitation no red man would 
venture near the man’s abode. Even the far-famed 
Prophet, and Kenton chuckled at the fact, had a 
wholesome fear of Black Sand, and the Moravian 
came and went through all the borders without 
danger. It was even said that he had once invaded 
a council of Pottawatomie chiefs and destroyed 
some kegs of whiskey without a warrior daring to 
touch him or interfere. 

More than this, however, Muir could learn noth¬ 
ing. He conjectured that Kenton intended to ques¬ 
tion Black Sand about the du Croix family, and 
hope rose in him. Black Sand should know of the 
missing people, if any one did. 

Upon breaking camp at dawn the three sepa¬ 
rated, making their way along the right bank of the 
stream, as Kenton did not know just how far the 
blazed elm was from the creek. He knew from 
other landmarks that they were not far from the 
tree, but it was necessaly to find that particular elm, 
as there were numbers of hills in every direction, 
any one of which might be that of Black Sand. 


84 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


The Kentuckian was farthest from the river, and 
pushed his way through the heavy timber without 
having sighted any elms whatever. An hour 
passed, and another. He had lost sight of Uncle 
Tom, on his left, and was badly scratched by thorns 
and brambles, while the morning was coming up 
decidedly hot. Thus far, neither of the other two 
men had uttered the signal of three turkey calls 
which was to announce that the elm was found. 
Muir cursed the whole affair — then paused as he 
emerged from a cover of bushes, and stood staring. 
Fifty feet distant from him was a large elm, and 
on its bark was blazed a huge white cross. 

The Kentuckian was raising his head to give the 
signal, when suddenly he drew back among the 
bushes. His quick eye had caught a moving object 
amid the trees opposite, and he swiftly dropped to 
cover, flung forward his rifle, and lay motionless, 
waiting. A moment later he was staring into the 
glade ahead, with wonder flooding on his mind as 
he watched. 

Into the sunlight had flitted a girl. Her supple 
body was clad in buckskin hunting shirt and short 
skirt, their fringed edges dyed scarlet with blood- 
root. She wore leggings and split-sole Delaware 
moccasins; over her shoulder hung horn and flask, 
while a long, light rifle lay across her arm. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


85 


Muir took in these details at a single glance, 
then his gaze rested on the girl’s face. So brown 
it was that, but for the massed and netted golden 
hair above, he had thought her a halfbreed. Closer 
scrutiny showed his mistake. Her features were 
firmly limned yet quite delicately carven—chiseled 
in clear lines of no insipid beauty, but of self-re¬ 
liance and calm efficiency. As Muir lay close in 
his thicket she turned and scanned the trees with 
leisurely air, passing over the blazed elm as though 
it were an old friend. 

Moved by sheer impish impulse, the Kentuckian 
uttered three loud, clear wild-turkey calls. He 
thought rather of startling her than aught else, 
for such a signal would be more apt to come from 
an Indian throat than from a bird. Consequently, 
he was already smiling to himself when, without 
warning, the girl’s rifle flashed up and she fired 
from her hip. 

Barely in time, Muir cast himself sideways; her 
aim had been deadly, swift as it was. The Ken¬ 
tuckian leaped to his feet, a startled cry on his lips. 
The bullet had tom through his coonskin cap with¬ 
out touching his head. 

Removing the ripped head-dress, Muir stepped 
forth from the covert. The girl was now staring at 
him, wide-eyed, yet already her tomahawk was in 


86 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


hei hand ready for a throw. Muir bowed, and as 
he advanced he noted that her eyes were of the 
same golden brown as her buckskin gear. 

“ Your pardon, madame,” he said, smiling a 
little despite the whiteness of his cheeks from that 
narrow escape. “ I meant only to startle you — 
and confess my fault with apologies. Had your 
bullet pierced the head with the cap, it had been 
entirely justified. My name, madame, is David 
Muir of Kentucky, your humble servant to 
command.” 

Her gaze took in the torn cap, and he thought 
that pallor crept into her dusky-rose face. For a 
long moment she did not answer, but stood regard¬ 
ing him in silence, and, perhaps, in surprise not 
untouched with admiration. As he stood there 
smiling in the sunlight, David Muir was no un¬ 
pleasant sight. He had shaved that morning, and 
his steady eyes shone forth from a grave and even 
severe countenance — a countenance that looked 
much older than it had appeared some weeks earlier 
in Lexington. In those weeks, Muir had become 
a different man, and showed the change. 

“ I am sorry, sir.” As her low voice reached 
him, he was astonished to find that her accents were 
not those of the backwoods, but betrayed culture 
and education. 46 1 came in search of a squirrel 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


87 


or turkey, since my brother is ill of — of a fever — 
and it was thought that a broth might restore 
him-” 

She paused, flushing slightly. Muir caught an 
odd note in her soft voice, a note which in another 
person would have spelled falsehood. But he only 
smiled and then turned as Tom came into the clear¬ 
ing with a shout of relief at sighting him. 

“ Marse Dave, you done found dat tree? Glory 
be, oY Uncle Tom done los’ more skin on dem 
cussed briers — oh, lawdy!” 

As his eyes fell on the girl, the big negro halted, 
and his jaw fell in blank amazement. Muir broke 
into a laugh, and a moment later Simon Kenton 
also came into view. Muir turned to the girl, and 
bowed, speaking swiftly to assuage the alarm in her 
manner. 

“ Madame, allow me to present Mr. Simon Ken¬ 
ton, whom I am proud to call my friend.” 

Kenton, coming forward, jerked off his cap, 
looking from Muir to the girl in evident surprise. 
At his name, however, quick relief sprang to her 
face. 

“Kenton?” she exclaimed. “Surely, not General 
Simon Kenton of Ohio?” 

“ At your sarvice, ma’am,” said Kenton with an 
embarrassed air. 



88 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


44 But what are you doing here — I mean, how 
did you come —” 

She broke oil, and Muir smiled quickly. 

44 The surprise was entirely mutual, madame. 
We were seeking that tree behind you, and I had 
just found it when you came into sight.” 

44 The tree — the elm? Then you must be in 
search of —” 

44 Of the feller called Black Sand, ma’am,” 
broke in Kenton suddenly. 44 Mebbe you kin take 
us to him? He’s a right good friend o’ mine.” 

The girl looked from one to the other, then 
dipped Muir a slight curtsy and nodded. 

44 Certainly,” she rejoined quietly. 44 1 am 
Madame Alice Cross. I and my brother John live 
with Black Sand. Will it please you to accompany 
me?” 

She turned. Kenton darted Muir one glance of 
mingled amazement, startled comprehension and 
warning, and Muir checked the astounded word 
that came to his lips. But, as he fell in behind Ken¬ 
ton, his brain was in a whirl of wonder. 

Alice and John Cross — what were these but the 
anglicized names of Alixe and Jean du Croix? So, 
at least, it seemed to him in this first moment. Yet, 
even as this realization burst upon him, Muir sud¬ 
denly remembered the girl’s first words to him. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


89 


She and her brother were living with Black Sand, 
which in itself was something of a mystery; but 
Muir felt that, unless he were much mistaken, there 
was something very strange about that fever with 
which the girl’s brother was afflicted. He could 
sense it, had seen it in her very eyes as she had 
choked back some unguarded utterance. 

46 1 fear me, Madame Alice,” he mused as he fol¬ 
lowed Kenton, “that you have told a sad false¬ 
hood this morning! Yet I think that falsehood 
from your lips were sweeter than truth from those 
of any other woman I have ever seen.” 

The girl led them swiftly through the woods, 
moving with the celerity and ease of an Indian 
maid. Presently Muir perceived that they were 
treading a scarcely perceptible trail. He glanced 
around at Tom, who grinned delightedly at him, 
all fear lost. 

How did it happen that such a woman as this 
was living with that singular creature, Black Sand? 
Even as Muir thought of this, even as the recollec¬ 
tion of her name again smote him with perplexity, 
Kenton turned his head and spoke in a low voice. 

“ I reckon she’s the da’ter of old Miles Cross 
what fit at Fallen Timbers with Mad Anthony. I 
heerd as how he’d left a couple o’ younkers.” 

At this, all Muir’s sudden fabric of dream 


90 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


crashed down, and he strode forward without at¬ 
tention to the trail. Perhaps the girl had caught 
something of Kenton’s aside, for she glanced back 
with a sudden smiling word. 

“ I have often heard Black Sand speak of you, 
Mr. Kenton. He is our guardian, you know. You 
have not encountered Tecumthe on the trail, by 
any chance?” 

“ Ain’t seed him, ma’am. Glad to say I ain’t 
seed the Prophet neither.” 

Muir listened with sinking heart, having no fur¬ 
ther doubt that Kenton had rightly identified the 
sister and brother. So Black Sand was their guard¬ 
ian! Then they were orphans — the last of a fam¬ 
ily that had been wiped out in some bloody frontier 
episode. This was not at all unusual. Nor was it 
unusual for settlers to adopt the orphaned children 
of other settlers. Food was abundant and children 
were an asset. What was unusual was that in this 
instance the guardian was Black Sand. 

The girl led them swiftly onward, and presently 
Muir made out one of the small knobs with which 
the country was dotted, rising just ahead. As the 
trees thinned out, a cluster of cabins was dis¬ 
closed on the south side of the hills, with a clear¬ 
ing around it planted with tobacco and corn. 

66 This is our home,” and the girl halted. “ My 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


91 


cabin is the one nearest us. That in the center is 
my brother’s. The far cabin is that of Black Sand. 
You will find him either inside or else caring for 
my brother, who is — ill.” 

Once again Muir detected a dusky flush rising 
in her cheek. Then, turning abruptly from them, 
she flitted away and vanished among the trees in the 
direction whence they had come — doubtless start¬ 
ing anew on her search for fresh meat. 

“ The A’mighty knows His business, I reckon,” 
said Kenton, with a slow and wondering shake of 
the head. 64 Nor it ain’t fer man to question Him, 
friend Dave. Let’s drap in.” 

He strode across the clearing. No sign of life 
greeted them except from a shack which served as 
bam, where two horses were hitched to a rude plow. 
A rifle stood against the door jamb of John Cross’ 
cabin. The aspect of the whole place was disturb¬ 
ing — it impressed Muir with the feeling that some¬ 
thing had just happened here, something very un¬ 
usual. The hitched horses, the rifle, the manner of 
Alice Cross, were all unnatural. 

Then the three visitors were stricken into a halt, 
halfway across the clearing. A voice had risen 
from the cabin of John Cross — a terrible, shrill¬ 
ing voice with stark madness in its tone. 

“ You lie, you lie, Black Sand! I tell you, it 


92 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


has all been arranged in Vincennes — the town of 
Tecumthe is to be attacked, massacred, wiped out! 
Captain Hogan has told me the whole scheme — 
loose me, loose me, loose me!” 

The cry ended in a wild scream of frantic rage, 
and at the cabin’s door appeared a man whom 
Muir knew instantly to be the brother of Alice 
Cross. He had the girl’s yellow hair and delicate 
features but he was half dressed, and his face was 
branded with the sheer insanity of a liquor-crazed 
individual. 

For an instant he halted, staring at the three 
strangers. Then an inarticulate cry burst from him. 
He seized the rifle leaning by the door, and threw it 
up. Muir leaped in at him, sensing the mad pur¬ 
pose. The rifle roared out almost in his face, 
and he was sent staggering backward. 

Tom caught him, but Muir only gripped the 
negro’s arm, watching in stupefied wonder. Close 
upon the shot, Sime Kenton had sprung in and grap¬ 
pled the man; the two staggered from the door¬ 
way, and then Black Sand made his appearance, 
coming from inside the cabin. Yet those two strug¬ 
gling figures formed a sight that held Muir gripped. 

The younger man was a creature of demoniac 
beauty, and his supple strength was frightful to 
see put forth. Kenton, who now stood like a rock, 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


93 


was plainly exerting all his great strength to quell 
the snarling, maddened being who was tearing 
furiously at him. It was not a battle of fists, for 
although Cross had drawn knife and tomahawk, 
Kenton gripped him by both wrists and strove des¬ 
perately to bend the younger man backward. In 
vain Cross lunged and kicked and bit. Although 
Kenton’s whole body was convulsed with the effort, 
he still managed to accomplish his purpose, slowly 
but surely. 

At this instant the fight was ended in startling 
fashion. While the frontiersman was gradually 
bending his antagonist back, Black Sand gave one 
erratic leap that brought him beside the two figures. 
His clenched fist drove out, and caught Cross 
squarely under the ear. The raving figure went 
limp and collapsed. 

66 Dave!” Kenton straightened up and whirled 
about. “ Be you hurt?” 

Muir tried to throw off the old negro, then felt a 
sudden weakness. This puzzled him, for he had 
not felt any pain, and for an instant he stood with¬ 
out response. Then he smiled — that rare, flash¬ 
ing smile which made men wonder at him. 

66 Looks like it, Sime,” he began, and words 
failed him. Darkness came down upon him, and 
he pitched forward. 


CHAPTER VI 


For Him who touches hands with fate 
Faith smooths the Toad, Love keeps the gate. 

A sweet voice it was, oddly haunting in its 
beauty, and the lilt of the voyageur boating-song 
came with a thrill to Muir’s heart. 

(t Derriere chez nous, il y a un etang — 

Ye, ye, ye, ment!” 

Quite sane all of a sudden, quite conscious, the 
Kentuckian opened his eyes and gazed around. He 
had a very clear memory of everything that had 
passed until the darkness fell upon him, yet he 
could not reconcile it with his surroundings. He 
lay in a sunny room, and in the air was a scent 
of mignonette. The walls were of chinked logs, 
hung over with skins. He recognized his own buck¬ 
skin suit and accouterments hanging on pegs above 
a spinning wheel. 

Muir sniffed the scent of mignonette. He held 
up his hand, and was amazed to find it not only 
feeble, but white and thin. Trying to sit up, he 
discovered that the effort was not only useless, but 
94 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 95 

sent a throb of pain across his chest. Yet he tried 
again, and this time succeeded. 

Sitting up, he gazed through an open doorway, 
saw a clearing outside, and then knew that he was 
lying in one of Black Sand’s cabins. A sun mark 
on the floor showed him that the afternoon was far 
spent. 

“ Daughter, is all well with you?” 

It was the thin, querulous voice of Black Sand, 
and it seemed to come from an adjoining room. 
The words were answered by a cry of surprise. 
Muir recognized the same sweet voice that he had 
heard singing, and comprehended that it was the 
voice of Alice Cross. 

“ Oh — you are back! Where is Mr. Kenton?” 

“ At the Prophet’s Town, whither I must depart 
tonight. We journey with Tecumthe to the Potta¬ 
watomie towns in the north. Has God blessed our 
friend with health? How is John — I trust the 
grip of Satan has been loosed from the lad?” 

44 John is in his own cabin and I am attending to 
him,” came the girl’s reply. “ The black man is 
out hunting and Mr. Muir has so far shown no sign 
of recovery, except that the fever seems to have left 
him —” 

64 What ho!” The Kentuckian lifted his voice 
cheerily. 44 Friends, David Muir is awake and 


96 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

mightily interested in the world. Come in, I pray 
you!” 

His words were met by a short silence, which 
was broken by Black Sand’s voice. 

44 If you have any bear’s oil, daughter, grease 
the hoe and make me a batch of cakes for my night’s 
journey.” 

With this, Muir saw the small and somewhat 
awry figure of the man himself in the doorway, 
and was addressed in a solemn tone. 

66 Praised be providence for its blessings! The 
hand of the evil one has been heavily upon you, 
David Muir!” 

Crossing to the pallet, Black Sand seated himself 
on its foot. He gazed steadfastly at Muir, who ven¬ 
tured an astonished reply. 

44 I suppose, sir, that I have been ill —” 

44 Do not talk, do not talk!” Black Sand settled 
himself comfortably. Putting one hand to the 
pocket of his hide shirt, he drew forth a few grains 
of powder and, as though from force of habit, 
began to finger them. 64 1 will explain, sir. Per¬ 
chance you know that in my care are two children, 
Alice and John. Sir, it grieves me to say that the 
boy has evil friends who have led him in the paths 
of iniquity. In short, he is far in the grip of Satan! 
At the moment of your arrival I was wrestling with 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


97 


the Evil Being; the boy was crazed by whiskey and 
was inhabited by devils. He knew not what he did. 
Aye, he shot you in the breast, though the bullet 
glanced from a rib. 

44 You, sir, were not yet recovered from much 
hard drinking — let us not mince words! You 
fell into fever, and for a week have lain here in de¬ 
lirium. Alice has cared for both of you, aided 
by your black slave —” 

46 Kenton! You said that he was —” 

66 Peace!” came the imperious word. 46 Aye, he 
went with me to the Prophet’s Town and we are 
engaged in furthering the business of God among 
the heathen. You shall wait here until our return, 
for I must away this very night, lest the black 
sand of destruction work havoc in the wilderness.” 

The head drooped further on the right shoulder, 
and the thin voice died away, yet the deep blue eyes 
continued to dwell upon Muir, and the pendulous 
lip quivered slightly. 

Muir now comprehended his position perfectly. 
So, then, that drink-crazed fool had shot him, after 
all! And now, weakened with fever, his strength 
undermined by past dissipation, he was cut off 
from his search and was destined to a slow recovery 
here in the forest. The bitter thought was allevi¬ 
ated by the memory of Alice Cross as he had first 


98 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


seen her beneath the blazed elm. Once again the 
name startled him, until he remembered that Ken¬ 
ton had identified the girl and her brother. 

64 Mr. Muir,” and afterward he often wondered 
whether Black Sand had read his mind in this 
moment of silence, 44 take no fear for the morrow. 
You are safe and well cared for. It may be that 
God in His infinite wisdom has not laid you low 
without some purpose. Now I must be gone, for 
there is much to do.” 

Black Sand rose, bowed grotesquely, and disap¬ 
peared. From outside, Muir could hear his thin 
voice lifting in a snatch of doggerel, which pres¬ 
ently dropped away in the distance: 

“ Thou, who hast placed us here 
Under the forest, 

Give us Thy faith and fear — 

Thou, who restorest! 

Give us to find again 
Those we are mourning, 

Those whom-” 

Now there was a rush of feet, and through the 
doorway came Uncle Tom. He fell on his knees 
beside the bed, gripping Muir’s hand to his wet 
cheeks, crying inarticulate things and sobbing his 
joy in mingled tears and laughter. 

Muir held the grizzled head close to him, unable 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


99 


to speak for the choking at his throat. Well he 
knew that no man would ever again love him as 
did this huge black slave; yet, the next instant, he 
broke into laughter as Alice Cross appeared in the 
doorway, with an angry stamp of her foot and in¬ 
dignation in her lovely face. 

“ Tom, how dare you dump down that bloody 
deer in my clean kitchen! Get out here and clean 
that floor, you rascal —” 

At Muir’s laugh, she broke off short, smiled, 
and vanished. Tom, blubbering and grinning all at 
once, rose and followed her. Then after a moment 
the girl reappeared bearing a steaming bowl. 

“ Here’s broth for you, sir,” she said, a pretty 
flush in her cheeks as she came to the bedside and 
met Muir’s eager eyes. His smile sent her into 
rippling laughter. “ Nay, but the honest fool 
angered me, flinging down his bloody deer and 
rushing in to see you — alas, I am ever hasty of 
temper!” 

She was now clad in butternut homespun, and 
as Muir looked up he thought that never had he 
seen so wonderful a woman. 

“ And your brother John?” he inquired gravely. 
“He is recovering, I trust?” 

A sudden startled fear came into her eyes. 

“You — oh, Mr. Muir, I pray you do not bear 


100 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


him ill will!” she cried, and her hand fluttered 
down to his as she gave him the bowl. Muir pressed 
the brown fingers reassuringly and smiled anew, 
for she did not draw away her hand. 

44 Ill will — for having given me such a nurse? 
Madame Alice, you wrong me!” 

46 Then you will pardon him? He is himself 
again, and remorse has preyed heavily —” 

46 Dear lady, I shall even thank him for being the 
means of holding me here, where it seems that I 
shall have the happiness of seeing you daily.” 

44 Fine words, sir — yet you seem to mean them,” 
she said, looking steadily at him as she drew back. 
44 1 thank you. Now drink this broth, then sleep if 
you can.” 

Muir obeyed, and was asleep before the girl 
left with the empty bowl. 

When he wakened again, it was morning, and for 
a little he lay very quiet and content. In the door¬ 
way sat Alice Cross, sewing, and Muir saw that 
she was repairing the rent in his buckskin shirt and 
the bullet-tear in his coon cap. In the freshness of 
early morning she was more beautiful than ever, 
masses of golden hair coiled loosely on her head, 
her delicately chiseled features intent upon her 
task. After a moment he cleared his throat, and 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 101 


instantly she was rising, coming to him with a fresh 
hoecake and more broth. 

Then she moved her stool closer beside him, 
working and talking at once. He lay, it proved, in 
her own cabin, where she could better care for him 
in comfort. Tom was busy with the plow in the 
clearing, and Muir was glad to find that the old 
negro had taken hold on things and was assisting 
the girl. 

“ John will be here presently,” she said. 64 He is 
most anxious to offer you his deep apologies. I 
pray you be quiet, sir —” 

44 On one condition,” and Muir laughed happily. 
44 Madame Alice, I hear much talk of John, so why 
should there not be talk of David also? Surely such 
formality need not exist in this wilderness, if I be 
truly fallen among friends.” 

For a moment her gaze dwelt gravely on him, 
then she rose. 

44 Very well — David,” she said, and broke into 
a smile. 44 Here is John coming now.” 

Muir caught a faint and halting step, yet for 
the moment he was not thinking of the brother. 
How had this girl, by her own admission put here 
far from the settlements, learned such ways and 
such speech? Perhaps from Black Sand, he con- 


102 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


sidered. The Moravian seemed to have an excel¬ 
lent education. 

Now a figure darkened the doorway, and Muir 
looked up to see John Cross. The man’s face 
startled him, so wild was it. Filled with some¬ 
thing of the girl’s delicate beauty, it was none the 
less the face of a lean wolf; yet the eyes were 
those of a sorrowing woman, haunting in their 
melancholy. Their brilliance was enhanced by 
the ghastliness of the pallid features — evidently 
Cross had been in no better case than Muir. 

“ Mr. Muir?” Cross came forward and took the 
stool brought him by the girl, lowering himself 
upon it stiffly. “I regret more than I can say, sir, 
that I met you as I did. I beg to offer my 
apologies —” 

“ Say no more,” broke in Muir, who perceived 
that these words came with difficulty to the lad’s 
lips. “ It was not your chance shot alone that 
wrecked me, but the evil which I have done to my¬ 
self in the past. Frankly, I have nearly ruined 
myself with hard liquor. Now, I trust, things will 
take another turn with me.” 

His words, by no means undesigned, brought a 
deep flush to the pallid face of the younger man. 
There was something in that face which Muir dis¬ 
liked. It was not wholly the brand of drink, nor 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 103 


was it the passionate, unbridled temper. Rather, 
it was the same latent cruelty, intolerance, which 
lent to his whole aspect its wolfish air. None the 
less, he was young; not over one and twenty, 
thought Muir. From his own knowledge of men, 
the Kentuckian was well able to read the haunting 
look of those eyes. He saw that John Cross was 
far on the same road which he himself had so 
lately traveled. 

In the sullen eyes of the man, Muir now per¬ 
ceived that his words had wakened a slumbering 
hostility. Even with that thought, however, an¬ 
other came to his mind. It brought him to his el¬ 
bow, regardless of the pain that twinged through 
him. 

“Cross!” he exclaimed. “And the French is 
du Croix — tell me, sir! Is it as Kenton thought, 
that you are the son of a settler named Miles Cross 
— or are not you and your sister French? I 
have —” 

“ No!” The word burst from Cross with angry 
vehemence. “ No, damme! We are not French, 
but honest Americans, Mr. Muir, born and raised 
in this country. Aye, and I’d have you know that 
my father fought in the Revolution! Why should 
you leap to the conclusion that we are French, 
simply because we live on the frontier —” 


104 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


44 John, dear, please!” The girl came up, gently 
seizing her brother’s arm. 66 Mr. Muir meant noth¬ 
ing amiss by his words.” 

64 No, no.” Muir lay back again, white with pain 
and anger. 44 1 meant naught, sir.” 

Cross sullenly rose, and dragged himself away, 
the girl assisting. Muir lay quietly, until she re¬ 
turned, her face anxious. 

44 Pray bear with him,” she said softly, taking 
up her sewing anew. 44 He is very proud that our 
father fought under Washington and that we are 
true Americans. Indeed, so am I!” 

44 1 meant naught,” said Muir. 44 Indeed, I too 
have been a fool, as I said, and I can feel very 
deeply for your brother.” 

44 He does not ask sympathy, sir!” she flashed 
out. Then her face softened, and a sigh broke 
from her. 44 Oh, I am wrong to speak so to you! 
John has not chosen well in his associates. But let 
us talk of it no more, David.” 

That word drew a smile from Muir, and they 
talked no more of this matter — indeed, they talked 
little further during the following week, for Muir’s 
fever threatened to return. Within the fortnight, 
however, he was able to be on his feet, though work 
was still far from his ability. 

Then fled away three more weeks, while he slowly 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 105 


regained health and strength. In those weeks he 
learned many things, and his acquaintance with 
Alice Cross warmed into friendship and comradely 
liking. But with John Cross, it was far otherwise. 

On one afternoon the brother came into the cabin 
where Muir was sitting. The Kentuckian, his mind 
again dwelling on that similarity of names, looked 
up with a frown, not observing that young Cross 
had been drinking. 

“ Tell me, John,” he said absently, 66 were you 
not among those who adhered to Aaron Burr? 
There was a gentleman named du Croix —” 

46 Devil take you!” burst out Cross. Such in¬ 
sanity of wild fury shone in his eyes that Muir was 
thunderstruck. 66 Have I not told you that we are 
Americans? Let me hear no more of this French 
talk, or by gad I may forget that you are not a well 
man! Save your insults for other folks, you clod!” 

He turned and departed, not without a slight stag¬ 
ger. Muir, who was white with swift anger, made 
no response. After this he said no more on the 
subject and dismissed it from his own mind. Cross 
avoided him so far as possible, and the two men 
had little to say to each other, an increasing cold¬ 
ness growing up between them. 

The urgently necessary work of the place was 
done by Uncle Tom, Muir lending what help he 


106 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


could as he grew stronger. At this time the girl, 
who must have noticed the ill feeling between her 
brother and Muir, kept more to herself. No visitors 
came to the clearing, and no word was received 
either from Kenton or from Black Sand, in whose 
cabin Muir and Uncle Tom now dwelt. 

As the summer days wore along, Muir, taking 
up his share of the work and the hunting, began to 
feel more like his old self. At the same time, his 
past had marked him. It was rarely that the old 
boyish smile lightened his face, and at times the 
craving for whiskey gripped him with terrific force 
— especially when John Cross was at home. For 
the lad was often gone, sometimes for days, and 
invariably returned bringing a jug of white liquor. 
It was not hard to conjecture that somewhere in the 
vicinity there was a still. Muir spent many a long 
hour striding through the woods, fearing lest he 
come upon the place and yet hoping that he might 
do so, for the craving waxed strong within him. 
Find it he did not, however. 

Concerning the brother and sister, he picked up 
a good deal through chance talk. Three years 
previously, after they had been settled here for 
some time, the father had departed to trade some 
corn at the settlements, and had never returned; 
word was later received that he had been slain in a 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 107 


tavern brawl, where he had interfered to quell a 
fight. The mother had shortly afterward died of 
fever. While the two children were burying her, 
Black Sand appeared on the scene. 

This was no uncommon tragedy of the border. 
The Moravian rover had taken charge of the two 
orphans and since then all three had dwelt here 
together. Muir gathered that John’s 66 evil asso¬ 
ciates ” consisted of certain Indians and traders, 
but learned nothing very definite; he more than 
suspected, however, that the boy was acquainted 
with Hogan. 

In this position stood matters when the crisis 
burst suddenly. Muir was now nearly recovered, 
and was only awaiting word from Kenton before 
departing. John Cross had been gone from the 
place for six days. Just prior to his departure he 
had bandied hard words with the Kentuckian, and 
Muir, although restraining himself with an iron 
hand, had fallen into deep distrust of the lad’s 
growing sullenness. 

With Alice herself, Muir found his comrade¬ 
ship ever deepening. She had temper enough, but 
it was the temper of steel; she owned none of her 
brother’s undoubtedly vicious hostility. In fact, 
Muir found little in common between them, save 
that touch of wild beauty in the lad’s face. 


108 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


On the day that John returned, it so chanced 
that Tom had splintered his axe helve, and Muir 
was cutting out a fresh one in the sunshine before 
the cabin. He was carving the helve from a four- 
foot hickory club which he had just cut. Tom was 
butchering a newly killed deer, and Alice was at 
work in her own cabin. The Kentuckian was star¬ 
tled by a shout, and looked up to see John Cross 
come striding from the trees at the edge of the 
clearing, rifle in hand. The lad called out again, 
impatiently. 

“ Alice! Where the devil are you?” 

The girl came to the door of her cabin. Cross 
waved a hand at her. 

“ Get some food ready — two of my friends are 
coming, and perhaps more. Wait! Come here a 
moment; I have a message for you.” 

Muir said nothing, but felt a hot surge of anger 
at the insolent tone of the young fellow* Alice, 
however, smiled and joined them, Cross meantime 
favoring Muir with a black look but not addressing 
him. 

66 Alice,” he said, with a hinted sneer, “your 
gentleman friend will be here in a moment — oh, 
you know the one I mean! Put on your best gown, 
girl.” 

It seemed to Muir that the girl’s brown cheeks 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 109 


paled a trifle, but her steady gaze did not falter 
from that of her brother. 

44 Whom do you mean, John?” 

44 Whom do I mean?” and he mimicked her, 
laughing. 44 Nay, sweet sister, no virginal modesty 
now! He to whom you gave your kerchief, our 
best friend! He comes on weighty business, but I 
think he had sooner see you than —” 

A flame rushed into the girl’s face, and suddenly 
her temper burst out. 

At that moment Muir caught the eye of Uncle 
Tom, and made a slight gesture that drew the 
negro. 

44 You shameless boy!” cried Alice hotly. 44 Have 
you no respect for any one? Gave him my ker¬ 
chief, indeed — when you lost it to him at cards! 
Go and set table for your own drunken swine and 
keep them at their distance from me. If Black 
Sand were here, your graceless runabouts would 
have their crops full!” 

Muir turned at a touch, and found Tom bending 
over him. 

44 Go to the house,” he murmured softly. 44 Get 
the rifles ready. Stay hidden. Trouble.” 

Cross had gone livid with rage at the girl’s 
words. He took a swift step forward and seized her 
shoulder roughly. 

44 Damme, you’ll do as I say!” he cried. 44 1 tell 


110 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


you I’ll have no more of this! You remember that 
you’re a settler’s sister now, and you can’t ruffle it 
any longer with your fine French airs over me. 
My name’s Cross, and I’ll have none of this du 
Croix folly —” 

Muir leaped to his feet. With a sweep of his 
arm he sent the speaker staggering a yard back¬ 
ward. His gray eyes flamed out with sudden anger 
and surmise. 

66 What’s this?” he broke out. 66 Then you are 
really Jean du Croix, and this is your sister, Alixe 
du Croix!” 

The lad’s hand was on his knife, his face con¬ 
vulsed by rage; but Muir’s words halted him. 

44 Devil take you! What is it to you?” 

44 This!” 

The Kentuckian’s hand went to his pocket, and 
he turned as he drew forth the scrap of lace, hold¬ 
ing it out to the girl. 

44 Alice, is this yours?” 

She uttered an exclamation. 

64 Where did you get it? I — I lost it months 
ago —” 

64 Deal with me in this, you Kentucky farmer!” 
Cross came leaping between them, his knife flaming 
in the sunlight. 44 Where got you that piece of 
lace?” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 111 


Muir’s cold eyes fairly drove him back a pace. 
The girl intervened anxiously. 

“ John, have a care! This —” 

The lad shoved her aside and faced Muir. “You 
impudent dog, that lace belongs to Captain Philip 
Hogan! It was my pledge to him that he should 
have the hand of my sister — ho, there, Hogan! 
Just in time, man! Come over here!” 

Muir whirled about, to look at the approaching 
figure of his enemy. 


CHAPTER VII 


When hides a snake within the nest , 

Who smiteth soonest smiteth best. 

“Alice, get back to Black Sand’s cabin — 
quick!” shot out Muir swiftly. 

From the corner of his eye he saw the girl, 
terrified and shrinking, obey his command. Then 
he could spare no further thought on her, for 
Hogan was almost upon him; and behind Hogan, 
the figures of three Indians, armed and painted, 
and evidently chieftains of rank. 

Instantly, John Cross was relegated to the back¬ 
ground. Hogan advanced, his black eyes fastened 
upon Muir, their baleful gleam belying the smile 
that rested on his lips. Muir met the look steadily, 
restraining his own passionate impulse to anger, 
and stood leaning on the shaft of hickory. 

“ So, so, here is my old friend Mr. David Muir!” 
said Hogan very softly. 

Muir made no response, but under his undeviat¬ 
ing look, Hogan’s sneering poise began to fall 
off. The whole affair had come like a flash. Too 
late, Muir now saw how the furious false pride of 
112 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 113 


John Cross had deceived and hindered him. Too 
late he realized how the lad, sullenly disliking him, 
had flashed into impassioned negation, considering 
himself insulted by being called French. So Ken¬ 
ton had been wrong, after all! Muir now wished 
that he had forced matters to an explanation, but 
it was too late for regrets. 

Also, Muir began to comprehend Hogan’s utter 
villainy. The scout knew brother and sister well, 
and had seemingly arranged with John Cross to 
marry Alice. Thus half of the money in the hands 
of Berthoud would come to him, and it was highly 
probable that he had formed some scheme to get 
hold of the portion which of right would go to John 
Cross. 

Under Muir’s regard, Hogan lost his temper 
completely. 

“ I would suggest that you leave this settlement 
at once,” he flashed out furiously. “ The presence 
of drunken fools is not wanted here. Kindly rid us 
of your presence.” 

Muir only laughed a little. That laugh gave no 
indication of what was passing in his mind, nor 
did his restrained response hint at the flame that 
inwardly consumed him. 

“ I fear, Mr. Hogan, that your wishes have small 
weight hereabouts. I deeply regret that we meet 


114 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


upon a spot which is hallowed to peace. Otherwise, 
I should be happy to carry out the threat that I 
made at our last meeting.” 

The two men were ten feet apart. Now John 
Cross came forward, between them, staring at 
Hogan in open surprise. The three Indian chiefs 
had halted to one side, and were watching the scene 
in grim unconcern. 

66 Do you know this fellow, Philip?” cried out 
young Cross. 66 Devil take me, you said naught of 
it when I told you about him!” 

66 1 preferred to surprise you.” Hogan grinned 
as he spoke. 66 Muir, what do you here?” 

“ None of your cursed business, renegade,” 
said the Kentuckian. Again he laughed a little, 
and again the laugh gave no hint of the blood lust 
in his heart. He could not forget that the man 
facing him was his father’s murderer. “ Get on 
with your friends, Hogan, and see to it that you 
keep out of my sight hereafter, else I may quite 
forget that this is no place for brawling with half- 
bred curs.” 

Hogan, partly shielded behind the figure of John 
Cross, slid one hand along his belt. Though the 
motion was hidden, the man’s face was not. The 
devilish rage in that face, the same stark murder 
that had shone there in the store of Audubon in 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 115 

Louisville, once more conveyed a flash of warning 
to Muir. 

“ Careful!” he cried swiftly, but too late. 

Hogan, with a flicker of his wrist and arm, had 
thrown his tomahawk in an underhand fling, so that 
the weapon whirled up beneath the arm of John 
Cross. Then, shoving Cross aside, the scout leaped 
forward, knife in hand, to follow up the stroke. 

But David Muir had seen such work long ere 
this. He jerked his head sharply, and the razor- 
edged “tom axe” only snipped a lock of his black 
hair in its passing. Then, as Hogan came in at 
him, Muir swung out with the shaft of wood in his 
hand. 

There was no mercy in that blow. The stout 
hickory took Hogan full above the ear, and without 
a groan the scout pitched forward and sprawled in 
the dirt. Over his body sprang Muir, darted upon 
John Cross, and with a single wrench tore the knife 
from the other’s hand. Then he caught the younger 
man by the shoulder. 

“ You fool!” he cried harshly. So full of con¬ 
tempt and anger were his eyes that Cross stood 
transfixed and staring. 66 You fool! Now get this 
foul friend of yours out of my sight, before I put a 
bullet into him!” 

Cross stood motionless, utterly astounded by 


116 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Hogan’s fall, by Muir’s sudden transformation, 
by the threatening tragedy of the whole scene. The 
three Indians still watched, immobile. Muir turned 
away and strode toward the cabin of Black Sand 
without another glance at the prostrate Hogan, 
knowing bitterly that he had only knocked the 
scoundrel senseless. 

“This is the second time he would have mur¬ 
dered me as he did my father,” thought Muir. 
“ Lucky how that face of his warned me! Clearly 
enough, he knows that I’ve spoiled his game to get 
hold of the Cross money, or at least I will spoil it. 
Why the devil did Berthoud ever trust such a man! 
Now, if he can, he’ll put a bullet into me — and 
the sooner he tries, the better satisfied I’ll be. I’d 
like nothing better than to shoot it out with him here 
and now!” 

For the present, however, Muir felt satisfied that 
he was safe. Against Hogan, he was fully warned, 
and the Indians would certainly offer him no harm 
while on Black Sand’s actual premises. Hogan’s 
schemes were completely checkmated. 

At Muir’s approach the cabin door was flung 
open, and Tom appeared, rifle in hand. Muir 
glanced back; Cross and the three Indians were 
lifting Hogan to his feet and there was no indica¬ 
tion of any further hostilities. Then, entering the 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 117 


cabin, Muir found Alice at his side, catching his 
arm in swift anxiety. 

“ No harm done,” he said, quietly patting her 
hand, and mistaking the thought in her golden- 
brown eyes. “John isn’t hurt—” 

“ Come, quickly! Do you know those men?” 
she interrupted. Then, turning, she drew Tom 
aside from the half-open door and pointed, excite¬ 
ment in her manner. “Look! That first one, with 
the eagle feather, is Winnemac, one of the greatest 
Pottawatomie chiefs; the one behind him, with the 
blanket and the short musket, is White Loon, an 
Ottawa; the third —” 

She paused for breath, since the words had 
poured from her in mad haste. Muir, looking at 
the three redskins, perceived that the third was a 
tall man, elaborately dressed and the bosom of his 
red coat hung with medals. 

“ Yes?” he prompted. “ Who is the third, then?” 

“Tecumthe’s brother —the Prophet!” 

Muir started. As he stared with new interest at 
the group of men, who were assisting Hogan across 
the clearing toward the cabin of John Cross, he 
suddenly was aware of a black streak under his 
arm. Whirling, he found Tom kneeling and in the 
very act of firing his long rifle. 

“ Confound you!” 


118 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Muir darted his hand down beneath the falling 
flint and knocked the powder from the pan. Then, 
with a grimace of pain, he disengaged his hand 
from the lock and jerked the huge negro upright. 

“ Who gave you permission to fire? What do 
you mean by it?” 

“ Miss Alice done say dat am de Prophet,” re¬ 
joined Tom, terrified by Muir’s wrath. “ Marse 
Dave, you ain’t gwine see him procrastinate around 
dat-a-way and not shoot? What de folks at home 
say when dey hears we killed dat Injun, suh?” 

“ You shoot without my permission, Tom, and 
devil take me if I don’t sell you down river! Fire 
the first shot here, and we’d be attacked by all the 
Indians in the country! Don’t dare attempt a thing 
unless we’re attacked. Don’t you know this is a 
sacred place to the redskins? Now stay on watch 
and keep your mouth shut.” 

Muir slammed and barred the door, and turned 
to the girl. 

“ Alice, tell me what you know of this man 
Hogan.” 

It was a demand, rather than a question, and 
Muir’s face was hard and stormy. The girl made 
response in troubled accents. 

“ He has been here several time, Dave, and 
has always been quite gentlemanly until the last 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 119 


occasion — several months ago. Then he got John 
aside and they played cards and diced and 
drank—” 

Muir nodded. 44 All right. Never mind the rest 
— it’s easy to imagine. I’ll tell you what I know 
about the scoundrel.” 

Alice already knew a great deal of his story. 
Now, with bitterness clutching at his heart, Muir 
told her about that last night in Lexington, and the 
words of Henry Clay, and how he had discovered 
the identity of his father’s murderer. When he had 
finished, he sat silent, his face like stone. The tale 
had not been an easy one to tell, for he spared 
himself nothing; she must have felt this, for sud¬ 
denly he found her hand creeping into his. 

64 Don’t feel so bitterly, David,” she said simply. 
44 You’ve made mistakes, but so does every one. 
And what does it matter, so long as we know them 
for mistakes, and profit by the knowledge?” 

Muir drew a deep breath. 44 No, it doesn’t mat¬ 
ter, Alice. Some day I shall go to Henry Clay in 
Washington, I trust, and reclaim that medal.” 

44 My father was of the Cincinnati, too,” she 
said. 44 John has his emblem and his certificate, 
signed by Washington.” 

There was a silence, while Muir stared through a 
loophole at the clearing outside; the visitors had dis- 


120 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


appeared from his range of vision, but he was not 
thinking of them. So this was Alixe du Croix! 
Muir felt no great elation over being in position to 
restore her birthright to this girl; now that the 
swift excitement of the realization had passed, the 
personal element had taken hold of his mind. Her 
half of the inheritance would make her a rich 
woman for that day and generation, particularly on 
the frontier. And who was he to have aught to do 
with her? A penniless wanderer, an outcast — 

“ Nay!” He threw back his head, the thought 
firing his gray eyes with pride. 66 1 am a son of 
the Cincinnati, gainsay it who will! And it seems 
to me that I have found work ready to my hand. 
That must come first. Afterward I can think of 
myself.” 

So, turning, he gently told the girl of the heritage 
awaiting her and her brother in Louisville. 

She heard him gravely, her startled eyes fastened 
on his face, her fingers still enclosed in his hand. 
No word did she say, although when he told of 
how Hogan had gone back to Louisville with a re¬ 
port of failure, he felt her hand quiver suddenly. 
When he had made an end of the tale, they sat for 
a little space, wordless, Muir staring out at the 
clearing, the girl watching his face as though she 
found there things which held her speechless. Only 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 121 


old Tom, rifle in hand, moved from loophole to 
loophole, keeping his restless watch. 

To Muir’s mind, though he did not mention it, 
the outlook was a dark one. Hogan had evidently 
hoped to force Alice into marriage by the aid of her 
brother; but did John Cross know of this inheri¬ 
tance? No, or he would have told his sister. Cross 
possessed a sullen but passionate temper, was a 
drunkard — but was not dishonorable. Obviously, 
Hogan had held the whole thing a secret. There lay 
the sore point. Hogan was hand in glove with the 
Prophet and these other two chiefs. Muir knew 
the latter by name, as being of the war party and 
opposed to Tecumthe and that chieftain’s high 
sentiments. They and their warriors wanted whis¬ 
key and guns — which Hogan no doubt supplied. 
The Prophet was opposed to liquor, but then the 
Prophet wanted war and was something of a 
diplomat. 

46 Marse Dave!” 

Tom called swiftly, and Muir bent forward. He 
saw the squat figure of Winnemac the Pottawatomie 
striding across the clearing toward the forest, the 
other two chiefs following him. At the same instant, 
John Cross appeared, coming openly from his own 
cabin and walking toward that of Black Sand. Muir 
pushed Tom aside and opened the door, waiting 


122 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


there until the younger man drew nearer. Cross 
came to a halt and addressed him. 

“ Mr. Muir! Will you come out and speak with 
me on a matter of importance?” 

The words were quite dispassionate. Searching 
the man’s face, Muir found there only a cold grav¬ 
ity; so like was the face to that of Alice, in this 
moment, that something clutched at Muir’s heart 
— pity, perhaps. 

“ You are alone?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Marse Dave!” spoke up Tom in protest, “ meb- 
be dem Injuns got some bobbery planned —” 

“ Shut up!” snapped Muir. Alice had come to 
him and he was looking down into her eyes. “ Yes? 
What is it, Alice?” 

“ Please bear with him, David!” she said softly. 
“ He is not himself when he has been drinking, 
but he is not bad, really —” 

“ I know, girl.” Muir smiled, all the lean harsh¬ 
ness suddenly stricken out of his face. “ I know. 
Trust me.” 

He leaned over and brought her hand to his lips. 
Then, leaving his rifle behind, he stepped past the 
door and closed it behind him. Cross was unarmed. 

66 Come a little aside, sir,” said the younger man. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 123 


“ Our talk must not be overheard. It is of great 
importance.” 

“ I should imagine that your sister might be 
trusted,” said Muir. 

At the words, Cross flushed, but gave no answer, 
and Muir followed him. They walked down across 
the clearing, and the younger man seated himself on 
a stump. Just beyond them grew a thick clump of 
bushes. 

Muir, knowing that Tom would be watching with 
ready rifle, and entertaining no suspicion of any 
treachery, did not hesitate. He sat down and filled 
his pipe, and Cross silently handed him flint and 
steel. Not until his pipe was alight was the silence 
broken. 

“ Mr. Muir, we do not like each other,” said 
Cross abruptly, “and chiefly, perhaps, because Mr. 
Hogan is my friend. Ever since your intrusion 
here, I have feared lest you come between him and 
Alice, whose hand I have promised him. However, 
let that pass. You know, no doubt, that Mr. Hogan 
is in the government service?” 

The Kentuckian replied with a curt nod. 

“ And you saw that he came here today in com¬ 
pany of the Prophet and the two highest chiefs 
of the allied tribes. For some time past, Mr. Hogan 


124 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


has succeeded in making himself friendly with 
these chieftains —” 

44 By selling them whiskey and guns,” broke in 
Muir calmly. 44 Proceed.” 

64 What matter the means?” returned Cross, his 
quiet demeanor beginning to break. 44 By gad, 
sir, it is time that you understood this affair! Over 
on the Wabash, the Shawanoes and others have set 
themselves up under Tecumthe — who, I grant 
you, is a great man. The Prophet helps his brother, 
but he thinks only of the day when the warriors 
can sweep down on the settlements; he is a danger, 
a menace to the whole border! And now, sir, the 
time approaches when this conspiracy must be 
wiped out. The British at Malden are sending a 
great number of muskets, with powder and shot, 
to the Prophet’s braves. Tecumthe goes on long 
exhorting trips, and when he next departs, Mr. 
Hogan intends to save our frontier settlements.” 

44 Very patriotic of Mr. Hogan,” said Muir 
coolly. 44 In what fashion, pray?” 

44 In this manner,” returned Cross. 44 General 
Harrison is going to march to the Prophet’s Town 
with his army, but peacefully. He hopes, in the 
absence of Tecumthe, to make a treaty with the al¬ 
lied chiefs by which the town will be abandoned. 
He thinks that the Prophet will consent to this, and 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 125 


that everything can be accomplished without firing 
a shot. Now, we who are on the spot know better. 
Harrison is a fool to dream such dreams. Mr. 
Muir, the redskins must be wiped out while they are 
in one body, just as Wayne wiped them out at Fal¬ 
len Timbers! Mr. Hogan intends to accomplish 
this by having them attack Harrison’s army, and is 
using his influence with the Prophet to this end, 
knowing that Harrison will destroy them.” 

“ I don’t quite understand you!” Muir frowned, 
finding himself both perplexed and astounded by 
these revelations. “ Surely the Prophet does not 
condone Hogan’s whiskey trade?” 

“ No. But Winnemac, White Loon and other 
chiefs want whiskey. Tecumthe refuses to com¬ 
promise and let them have it. The Prophet does so, 
however, in order to get their help in his war plans 
— for the Prophet has none of Tecumthe’s high 
ideals. Now, Hogan is —” 

“ John, wait one moment!” Muir looked at the 
younger man, and deliberately assumed a familiar 
and intimate attitude. “ You are quite sincere in 
believing that Hogan is a patriot who is working 
for unselfish ends. Now, I beg of you, keep silence 
while I tell you about him. First, do you know of 
the money awaiting you in Louisville?” 


126 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Money?” Cross was obviously bewildered. 
“ No.” 

Very bluntly, the Kentuckian told his story. As 
he listened to it, Cross flushed and paled again, his 
fingers playing with his knife haft. More than once 
rank disbelief leaped to his eyes, but it vanished 
under the steady words of Muir. Presently, with a 
stifled curse of astonishment and anger, Cross lifted 
a horn flask from his belt and drank deeply. 

“ Such is the man to whom you promised your 
sister’s hand,” concluded Muir, after relating what 
he knew of Hogan as well as the tale of the inheri¬ 
tance. “ John, he wants that money which is now 
in Berthoud’s hands. Providing that he had married 
Alice, how long would you have lived? Not to 
reach Louisville, that is sure! Now let’s put this 
personal matter aside, since you’ve learned about 
it. Why did you bring me here? In order to per¬ 
suade me to keep out of Hogan’s affairs?” 

Cross nodded. Muir’s tale had evidently stung 
him very deeply; all the beauty had vanished from 
his features, and in its place leaped out the cruel 
wolf look. 

“ And was this done at Hogan’s suggestion?” 

Again the younger man nodded. Muir stared 
thoughtfully at the ground, for he was suspicious 
and puzzled. Surely, Hogan would have guessed 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 127 


that once the two men came together, John Cross 
would learn about that money in Louisville! The 
scout was far too crafty to make such a move with¬ 
out some object in view. 

“ Where does Black Sand stand in this Indian 
imbroglio?” 

“ He’s a fool,” muttered Cross sullenly. 

44 So you named General Harrison.” Muir smiled 
drily. 44 John, from what I’ve heard of Harrison, 
he’s a shrewd man and would like nothing better 
than to be attacked. Has it occurred to you that 
Hogan may be acting at a higher instigation in thus 
stirring up the Prophet to war? Why should not 
Hogan have lied to you, since —” 

46 By gad, sir, there have been crooked tongues 
hereabouts!” Cross leaped to his feet in a furious 
storm of passion. 44 Either you have lied, or else 
Mr. Hogan has lied — and damme if I don’t think 
the two of you are liars! Let’s have this matter out 
with him at once —” 

Muir, feeling well satisfied with the result of his 
words, was just lifting the pipe to his lips; but the 
corncob never reached its destination. 

A twisting, curling loop of hide slithered out 
from the clump of bushes behind him. It settled 
over his head and shoulders and was drawn taut; 
Muir felt himself jerked backward to the ground, 


128 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


then hauled into the bushes, where men fell upon 
him. Even before he tried to struggle, he realized 
what had happened. 

The three chiefs had summoned some warriors, 
who had evidently been waiting outside the clear¬ 
ing, and he had been very neatly trapped. With 
this desperate thought, Muir put forth all his 
strength in an endeavor to get free. His all was 
not enough; the binding cord about his arms held 
him close, hands gripped his wrists and tied them. 
He perceived that he was in the grip of three power¬ 
ful Indians, while Winnemac stood looking on and 
grinning. The whole party was now screened from 
the cabin by the bushes around. 

Muir’s first thought was that Cross had lured him 
into the trap. Then, after his ankles were bound 
and the three warriors rose, he heard a furious 
altercation and saw Cross engaged in a heated dis¬ 
pute with Winnemac. Evidently, then, the treachery 
had been cunningly and thoroughly planned by 
Hogan. 

A guttural exclamation from one of the three 
warriors caused the chief to turn. Muir remem¬ 
bered Uncle Tom, and lifted his voice in a hasty 
shout of warning, but he was too late. Unable to 
see just what had taken place, the old negro had 
come from the cabin at a dead run — and, like 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 129 


his master, he was caught by the hide noose as he 
came close to the brush. 

But Tom exacted vengeance for that snaring. He 
carried his rifle ready, and, just as Muir shouted, 
the thong slid out over him, settled about his black 
neck, and jerked him forward. Without hesitation 
the negro fired pointblank, and the Indian who held 
the noose fell dead. At that, the others were out 
and upon him. For an instant Tom seemed about to 
win clear, for a warrior who had grappled with him 
was picked up and flung bodily, and Tom went at 
the remaining man like a maniac. Winnemac, 
however, picked the right moment and drove his 
clubbed rifle into the negro’s stomach — and the 
fight was over. 

Through this, John Cross stood watching, para¬ 
lyzed by the swiftness of it all. His face was con¬ 
vulsed with horror — but now it swept into a storm 
of new passion as the bushes opened and Captain 
Philip Hogan stepped through them. 


CHAPTER VIII 


When they ring you and scourge you and bait you 

Then laugh! Only death can await you. 

For the sake of Alice and for the sake of John 
Cross himself, David Muir made a frantically de¬ 
termined elfort to avert the storm which he now per¬ 
ceived was only too certain to break. He knew 
that Winnemac, beyond all doubt, could speak 
English. This doubt was further lessened when, be¬ 
hind Hogan, he sighted the other two head chiefs. 
The bound figure of Tom had been flung down 
beside him, and now Muir raised himself and sat 
up, with one swift cry. 

44 Elkswatawa!” 

This, the Shawano name of the Prophet, at once 
checked the threatened outburst from Cross, and 
drew upon Muir the regard of the Indians. 

44 Elkswatawa!” he went on swiftly. 44 Here on 
my right wrist is a leather thong. On that thong 
is the mark of Tecumthe, who is my friend. Bid 
your young men see if I speak with a single 
tongue!” 

The one-eyed chieftain uttered a grunt of com¬ 
mand, his hideous features staring at Muir. One 
130 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 131 


of the warriors stooped and found the leather tag. 
A dead silence fell upon the group; the sight of the 
token was obviously impressive. Hogan looked 
down at Muir with venom in his eyes, but dared not 
speak lest he take the wrong cue. 

Then it was that Muir understood what manner 
of men these were, and what he might expect from 
them. The Prophet uttered a sharp command; the 
warrior flashed down with his knife and cut the 
thong from Muir’s wrist, passing it to Elkswatawa. 
After a cursory examination that chief extended it 
to Hogan with a grimace, and Hogan uttered a laugh 
as he seized it. 

“ Thank’ee, Chief! Mayhap it’ll come in handy 
later on, eh? Now take your prisoners along and 
leave me to follow with the young squaw.” 

The Prophet nodded acquiescence. Incredulous, 
Muir realized that the authority of Tecumthe 
amounted to little among these men, who would not 
even recognize the sanctity of Black Sand’s clear¬ 
ing. He saw, too, that he and Tom were to be 
summarily dealt with, in certainty that the absent 
Tecumthe would never learn of it. Yet, remember¬ 
ing that proud and kingly man who had sat across 
the fire from Black Sand on a certain night in 
Kentucky, Muir thought that the Prophet would act 
very differently were Tecumthe here. 


132 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Now, suddenly, John Cross took a forward step, 
his knife bared. In the look that he bent upon 
Hogan there was such passionate fury that the 
scout involuntarily took a step back. 

“ John, be silent!” cried Muir in desperation. 
“ Go back and take care of Alice —” 

Cross paid no heed to him, but held out his 
clenched knife hand and addressed Hogan in a 
voice that shook with uncontrolled anger. 

“ You dirty dog! You have lied to me and made 
me a trickster — made me a lure for these two 
men! Turn them loose at once, d’ye hear?” 

Hogan regarded him fixedly, hand at belt. Then, 
with a swift gesture, he stepped to the side of Muir, 
leaned over, and slipped the Kentuckian’s knife 
from its sheath. He rose, and spoke quietly as he 
came erect. 

“ John, what’s the matter? You were not speak¬ 
ing to me?” 

“ Aye!” shouted Cross. “ I know all about you 
— I know your whole dirty plan, and now I tell 
you that I’ll kill you myself before you ever touch 
my sister, you dog!” 

Hogan stood motionless, but in his eyes was the 
lurid flame of murder. 

“ So!” he sneered softly. “ And perhaps you 
would offer to fight with me?” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 133 


Cross appeared to take warning, but the flame of 
rage in his brain drove it out almost at once and 
he forgot everything. 

“ Damn you, I’ll tell the Prophet of your 
treachery —” 

The word ended in a gasp, and the head of Cross 
flew back. Both hands came to his throat; even be¬ 
fore the rush of blood, Muir saw the haft of a knife 
set there in the white flesh, and knew it for his own 
knife. This time, the underhand throw had driven 
home the steel! 

Cross seemed to double up, his knees .loosened, 
and as he fell he sobbed his life away. Hogan 
turned quickly to the watching Indians and ad¬ 
dressed them in their own tongue. White Loon 
uttered a call, and other warriors appeared from 
the nearby bushes. Hogan turned to Muir, with a 
vicious kick of his moccasined foot. 

“ Now, drunken cub, you’re out of the way!” he 
exclaimed. “ What will your fair maid say when I 
tell of how you killed her brother — and show 
the body as proof, eh. You fool, you fool! She 
and I go to Louisville together, while you go to 
hell.” 

Laughing, he turned and disappeared in the 
bushes. 

Muir saw that the redskins were now in haste 


134 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


to be gone. The Prophet barked out an order and, 
more warriors appearing, Muir and Tom were 
lifted and carried off into the forest. Once among 
the trees, they were set down while the three chiefs 
conferred together to one side. 

A good dozen warriors were now grouped 
around. Twisting as he lay, Muir perceived that 
Tom, at his elbow, was slowly gasping his way to 
consciousness again. Now the Prophet gave 
another order, and the warriors leaped to work. 
The negro was kicked into life. His ankles and 
those of Muir were first loosened and then hob¬ 
bled, so that they could take only short steps. One 
of the warriors, in broken English, ordered them 
up, and tied a thong to their wrists; then the entire 
party started off in single file through the forest. 

Once the old negro addressed Muir, but a jab 
from a rifle constrained him to silence, and no fur¬ 
ther word was spoken by any. None the less, the 
Kentuckian began to piece things together, and ar¬ 
rived at certain conclusions which, although highly 
interesting, were also highly uncomfortable. 

It was now evident that Hogan, by some devilish 
ingenuity, had not only planned the whole trap, but 
had schemed from the first to murder John Cross. 
His ingenuity had even committed the crime with 
Muir’s knife, so that Alice Cross might well deem 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 135 


Muir guilty of the deed. And what of the girl her¬ 
self? By his last words, the scout plainly intended 
to carry her off and marry her. In some ways this 
was well, since he would certainly offer her neither 
insult nor harm, only marriage at Vincennes being 
able to secure him the money for which he was 
playing this game of murder. 

Concerning his own position, Muir was in no 
doubt whatever. He and Tom could look for no 
mercy whatever. From what Kenton had previously 
told him, Muir knew that while the Prophet was al¬ 
lied with Tecumthe in the general project of band¬ 
ing the Indian tribes and founding a joint settle¬ 
ment at the juncture of the Wabash and Tippe¬ 
canoe rivers, the one-eyed chief was also savagely 
set upon war. Also, Elkswatawa was a man of utter 
cruelty, and no doubt meant to use the two captives 
to inflame his own followers still further. 

So far, the wonderful eloquence and the amazing 
personality of Tecumthe had offset the Prophet’s 
influence, and the council of the tribes was irre¬ 
vocably resolved upon peace. But here came in 
Governor Harrison, who, although a personal friend 
of Tecumthe, also had his own future to look 
after. The men who served under him were very 
difficult to curb. Tecumthe’s ambitions menaced 
the whiskey trade and gave no opportunity for con- 


136 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


ducting raids on the Indian lands. Consequently, 
the borderers were intent upon provoking the red 
men into war by every possible means. Did Harri¬ 
son attempt to stem the tide, he would most cer¬ 
tainly endanger his own political future. Did he, 
on the other hand, maintain a semblance of justice 
and at the same time crush Tecumthe’s alleged 
conspiracy, he would be the hero of the entire bor¬ 
der. It was not hard to see what course a shrewd 
man would choose. 

But what of Alice Cross? What of the girl whose 
brother lay dead at the edge of the clearing be¬ 
hind? Muir groaned at the thought, knowing him¬ 
self helpless and lost. 

Noon passed, but there was no halt for a meal. 
Two hours afterward, the chief White Loon, after a 
brief talk with the Prophet, left the party and 
vanished in the forest. Muir conjectured that, 
since all the others save the Prophet were Potta- 
watomies, the Ottawa chief had departed to rejoin 
a band of his own warriors. 

Not until darkness fell did the band halt. Then 
Muir and Tom, securely bound, were flung down in 
the center of the group, a brief meal was made on 
dried venison, and the warriors were asleep almost 
at once. One brave remained on guard — a war¬ 
rior painted with white war-paint, the same who 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 137 


had cut from Muir’s wrist the token of Tecumthe. 
Neither of the prisoners was allowed speech. Muir 
was utterly worn out by that stiff day’s march; 
escape was quite out of the question, and, despite 
the pain caused by the thongs that bound him, he 
presently fell into slumber beside the already snor¬ 
ing Tom. 

He was wakened by a kick, and found the dawn 
upon them. Another snatch of dried venison, and 
in the same ominous silence the party took up their 
journey through the forest. Muir observed that 
they traveled northwest, veering to west as the day 
wore on, and followed a distinct trail that tokened 
an objective of some importance. 

The two captives were given no consideration. If 
they lagged, a guttural word and a prodding mus¬ 
ket spurred them; if they came to a stream, they 
were dragged across, without care whether they 
lived or drowned. Nor were they allowed speech, 
although Muir guessed that the redskins spoke 
English upon occasion. 

On the second evening, half dead, bedraggled, 
and weary beyond words, the Kentuckian staggered 
into what seemed to be an ancient clearing, where 
several fires were blazing. He comprehended that 
their destination was reached, though he saw no 
signs of any town, but he was too worn out even to 


138 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


eat. Flinging himself down beside Tom, he dropped 
at once into sleep. 

With the morning, however, he wakened to a 
more lively interest in his environment. He and 
Tom had been loosed of their bonds, though the 
white-painted warrior was still on guard over them; 
and, as he gazed around, Muir began to under¬ 
stand their situation, which was amazing enough. 
The clearing, in the center of which they lay, was 
a large one. It contained no lodges whatever, but 
here were gathered some sixscore Indians. Since it 
was late in July, the encampment lay beneath the 
blue sky. This was, evidently, some general meet¬ 
ing place of the tribes, a council spot. 

The warriors were of all nations. Muir and Tom 
between them made out Shawanoes, Pottawatomies, 
Miamis, Piankeshaws, Delawares, Wyandots, Ot- 
tawas, and even two lordly and aloof Sacs. All 
except the Sacs were in full war paint; and mov¬ 
ing from party to party, greeted with obvious fear 
and veneration, was the miracle-working Prophet. 

“Must be a council of war chiefs, Tom!” ex¬ 
claimed Muir, for the bar of silence had now been 
lifted from them. “ See — there’s White Loon 
again, with those Ottawas of the bear clan! This 
must be a secret gathering of the war party from 
each tribe, called by the Prophet without the knowl- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 139 


edge of Tecumthe, and I’ll wager that devil Hogan 
instigated the meeting!” 

44 Marse Dave, I reckon we-all gwine say good- 
by,” responded the grizzled negro, his haggard fea¬ 
tures now settled into a strange calm. 66 Dis hyer 
Prophet, he’s a-fixin’ to raise de debbil.” 

46 1 expect you’re right, Tom,” assented Muir, 
watching the hideous figure of Elkswatawa with 
interest. His gray eyes were steady and clear, and 
he flung Tom a smile. 64 Brace up, old friend! We 
mustn’t give them the pleasure of seeing us flinch.” 

44 Not me, suh! No low-down Injun gwine make 
Uncle Tom shet his eye — only, suh, I hopes dey 
won’t have none o’ dem hobblegobs around.” 

Breakfast over, the two captives found them¬ 
selves at once the center of attraction. The Prophet 
and Winnemac, with other of the head chiefs, were 
in consultation about a fire, but the remainder of 
the warriors crowded around Muir and Tom with 
lively grins. The very fact that they attempted no 
hostilities, that they spoke entirely in their own 
tongue, and that they seemed in boisterous good 
humor, spelled danger to the Kentuckian. Were his 
conjecture as to this gathering a true one, these 
warriors were anticipating a rare treat that evening. 

Toward noon, Tom and Muir were ordered up 
and were led to the edge of the clearing, where two 


140 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


trees grew a dozen feet apart. To these trees they 
were lashed very thoroughly, while in the center 
of the clearing was built a long, low fire. Around 
this fire the Indians seated themselves by tribes. 

“Council!” said Muir, watching intently. “No 
torture yet, to amount to anything, Tom —” 

He broke off abruptly. The old negro, worn out 
and still suffering from that first blow in the stom¬ 
ach, had fainted. His giant body hung limp in its 
lashings. 

“ Lucky for him,” thought Muir bitterly. “ Well, 
if Mr. Henry Clay were here now, I think he’d be 
quite satisfied in the matter of the wastrel! At 
least, Fll do my best.” 

For the present, however, he was quite left alone. 
When the calumet had passed around in its slow 
and ceremonious course, the Prophet rose and ad¬ 
dressed the council. What the one-eyed chieftain 
said, Muir could not understand; but from his 
voice, his frenzied gestures, and from the effect of 
the words, he had little doubt that Elkswatawa was 
talking war and crying for red belts. Then Muir 
observed something else. 

Beside each warrior was a bundle wrapped in 
list. As each man had advanced to his place, he had 
put a second and larger bundle on a great heap 
to one side. These wrapped objects caused the 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 141 


Kentuckian no little wonder, until suddenly the 
Prophet, with a dramatic gesture, caught one of 
them up, ripped off the list wrapping with his knife, 
and disclosed a British musket. Upon that, Muir 
comprehended the whole thing, for John Cross had 
said something about the British sending muskets 
and powder from Malden. And now the Prophet, 
whose Indian name signified “ Loud Voice,” passed 
into a more violent harangue than ever. In the 
midst of this, he broke off with startling abrupt¬ 
ness and tossed a powder horn into the fire. 

Even Muir was alarmed by that seemingly mad 
action. The seated Indians leaped up with wild 
cries, shocked out of their ceremonial calm — then 
one and all stood transfixed with awe. For, instead 
of an explosion, the flames vomited forth what 
seemed to be a huge serpent, that came twisting out 
of the fire, rolled upon the ground at the very feet 
of the exultant Prophet, and, with a lifelike con¬ 
vulsion, fell to ashes. 

“Cunning Britishers!” thought the Kentuckian, 
comprehending that this was some trick. “ And 
thrice cunning Prophet — damme if you aren’t a 
clever rogue!” 

Beyond a doubt, the trick was excellently played; 
its effect was immediately visible in the looks of 
wondering awe and fear which were bent upon the 


142 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Prophet. The latter seated himself, then drew his 
blanket over his head to await the outcome of the 
council. 

Winnemac arose, holding a belt of black wam¬ 
pum and another of white. Without a word, he 
advanced toward the Prophet and dropped the 
black belt at the feet of the seated chieftain. White 
Loon followed him, repeating the action. Amid a 
tense, strained silence, the chiefs arose one by one, 
passed to the figure of the Prophet, and dropped 
either red or black belts — the token of war. 

Only one delegation failed to join this majority. 
The two Sac chieftains, proud contempt upon their 
unpainted features, laid down two white belts and 
then strode off into the forest and were gone. 
Whether or not they had seen through the trick of 
that magic, David Muir could not tell. But there 
was no mistaking what followed. 

After a long period of silence, craftily planned 
to increase the tension of the scene, Elkswatawa 
uncovered his head and stared down at the belts. 
His gaze swept up around the circle of fierce, in¬ 
tent faces; then he suddenly leaped to his feat and 
pointed at the two captives. Instantly all the digni¬ 
fied silence was shattered by one wild yell of un¬ 
leashed fury. Springing up as one man, the war¬ 
riors bounded toward Muir, a flame of naked steel 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 143 


in their hands. Realizing that fate was close upon 
him, the Kentuckian faced the charging mob with 
steady gaze — then the warriors were halted as the 
Prophet uttered a cry and strode through their 
midst, halting before the stakes. 

He gave a low command. Two braves fetched 
water and flung it into the face of Tom, reviving 
him, while the Prophet himself strode to Muir; in 
that one-eyed, repulsively painted face the Ken¬ 
tuckian saw maddened rage and hatred. 

“Long knife!” cried out the chief, in English, 
his voice ringing deeply and with a trace of Te- 
cumthe’s vibrant power. “ We have dug up the 
hatchet. Your brothers have betrayed their treaties. 
They have spoken with double tongues. My young 
men are going to sweep them from the earth, and 
the Great Spirit will aid us.” 

Seeing that some answer was expected, Muir 
laughed a little. After all, death was no great 
matter! 

“ Elkswatawa,” he said, his level gaze never 
flinching, “you are a village cur who hears the wolf 
howling in the forest and puts his tail between his 
legs. Your warriors are like mongrels who snap 
at the heels of strangers but fear the kick. You 
captured me by guile on the sacred ground of Black 
Sand. Were Tecumthe here, you would turn pale 


144 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


and shrink before him, as a squaw before her 
master!” 

His words were drowned in an outburst of mad¬ 
dened yells. The Prophet motioned to the white- 
painted warrior, who sprang forward and flourished 
a knife before the eyes of Muir with a wild grin, 
and paused to spit in the captive’s face. Muir 
looked at him steadily. 

44 You are the dog who dared to take from my 
wrist the token that was placed there by Tecumthe,” 
he said. 46 Tell the Prophet to save you quickly 
if he can, for the wrath of his brother will find you 
out!” 

The warrior drew back, half in fear, then leaned 
forward with a snarl of sudden rage. His knife 
swept down and severed the bonds of Muir. One 
thong alone was left — a strip of hide about his 
waist that held him loosely tied to the tree-stake. 
Tom, who was by this time staring around him, was 
left bound in the same fashion, and the crowd of 
warriors withdrew to a distance of twenty paces. 
Muir glanced across at the slave, and his face was 
transfigured by its old, kindly smile. 

“Good-by, old friend!” he called, lifting his 
voice above the yells. “ Good-by, Tom!” 

46 Good-by, Marse Dave!” Tom gathered himself 
together and stood very straight, yet with a grayish 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 145 


pallor creeping into his wrinkled black cheeks. 
44 OF Tom’ll be ready to tote you ’crost Jordan, 
suh—” 

The negro’s words were cut short by a hatchet 
that spat into the tree beside his ear. 

At the same instant, a knife flamed before Muir’s 
eyes and then slapped, quivering, into the wood 
behind him, so close that the haft stood against his 
cheek. The game was on! 

Knowing that this was but the preliminary, Muir 
gazed squarely at the circle of warriors and stood 
as though carved in stone. Silence had fallen upon 
the crowd, and as man after man stepped for¬ 
ward and let fly, low grunts of disgust or approval 
alone were to be heard. Slow work was made of 
it, for each man recovered his weapon after the 
throw. 

With every fresh flame of steel, Muir thought that 
his end had come, but each time the knife or toma¬ 
hawk bit into the tree-trunk and left him unharmed. 
More than once his skin was grazed; more than 
once a knife pierced his leathern shirt and pinned 
him to the wood, but he greeted each such throw 
with a taunting laugh which drew admiring grunts 
from the torturers. He stood in no actual danger, 
for all of these men were famed warriors, skilled 
in such play, and his comments on their poorer 


146 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


throws caused them much delight; they perceived 
that his coolness was no less than their own. 

As a side glance showed Muir, Tom was likewise 
unhurt. He thrilled to the courage of the old negro, 
who stood without a quiver, although one ill-flung 
hatchet had brought a tiny stream of blood from 
his brow. 

Presently the warriors tired of this sport, seeing 
that the two captives were too strong of will to show 
fear. Leaping forward, the white-painted brave 
seized flaming brands from the fire, ran with them 
to Tom, and crossed them above the naked feet of 
the negro. A wild yell of applause swept up at 
this diversion, and another brave sprang out with 
burning sticks and bounded forward, laying these 
across the moccasined feet of Muir. 

Now the crowd closed in, silent, watching to see 
which of the captives would first give way and kick 
off the torturing brands. Protected for the moment 
by his heavy moccasins, Muir glanced at Tom. The 
grizzled negro was standing erect, glaring at his 
tormentors, yet with signs of agony distorting 
his features. At this instant the Prophet came 
striding forward and kicked the brands from Tom’s 
feet; what his purpose was in so doing, however, 
was never known. 

For, like a startled deer, the chieftain whirled 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 147 


about, listening. From somewhere close at hand 
drifted up through the trees a thin, querulous voice 
— a voice that Muir recognized with a gasping thrill 
of relief. The Kentuckian kicked the brands from 
his feet, but not a warrior heeded the action. That 
voice, rising in its singsong doggerel, had gripped 
them all in swift dismay and consternation — 

“ The dun deer dies 
By lick and spring; 

The eagle cries, 

Death high a-wing; 

And in wait God lies 

, For everything. 

Scalp locks hang straight 
When life is done; 

By many a gate 

Death’s house is won; 

And God lies in wait 
For every one. 

The sorriest clod 
May understand 

How Death’s dark rod 
Cowers all the land; 

But in wait lies God 
To guard Black Sand!” 

The words died out. A tall figure stepped into 
the clearing, a dozen feet from Muir’s torture tree. 


148 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


One low grunt of unconquerable amazement broke 
from the crowd. The Prophet positively shrank 
back in withering fear. Yet the figure stood mo¬ 
tionless, its flitting, birdlike eyes flickering over the 
assemblage. 

With unutterable relief flooding over his soul, 
Muir recognized Tecumthe. And behind the chief, 
standing equally motionless, was the strange shape 
of Black Sand. 


CHAPTER IX 


Simpler than tricksters, stronger than foes, 
Humble to God the great man goes. 

In a silence that was more deadly and terrible 
because of its very strangeness, Tecumthe stepped 
forward, turned his back on the warriors, and 
looked Muir in the eye. 

“ My brother,” he said in English, 66 1 am glad 
to see you.” He whipped out his knife and slashed 
the thong that bound Muir to the tree, then ex¬ 
tended his hand. Muir gripped it and met a firm, 
strong handshake from iron fingers. 

“ My brother,” went on Tecumthe calmly, yet 
with a smoldering flame of frightful anger rising in 
his eyes, “ I am sorry to find that these young men 
have been playing. I thought they were chiefs, 
but I see they were only village boys. They have 
not harmed you?” 

“ The dogs do not harm the black bear.” Muir 
laughed lightly. 66 Although they may tear his fur 
a little, they are afraid before his teeth.” 

Tecumthe’s eyes flitted to Muir’s knife-torn shirt, 
and gleamed appreciation of the metaphor. A 
149 


150 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


smile even touched those thin lips, but it was gone 
instantly. 

“ I placed a strip of leather on the wrist of my 
brother, the Black Bear.” As the chief uttered 
these words, Muir thrilled. They meant that he had 
been given a name, that he had won a name in be¬ 
stowal from the greatest of all the forest chief¬ 
tains. No higher accolade could have been gained 
through all the frontier than this. “ I do not see 
the leather there. Why does not my brother wear 
it, so that all the red men may know he is the friend 
of Tecumthe?” 

Now the face of Muir set hard, for there was a 
grim reckoning at hand. He guessed that Tecumthe 
had been hiding among the trees a long while, and 
knew perfectly everything that had taken place in 
the clearing; therefore, he fell into the part of the 
little drama which the chief had assigned him, look¬ 
ing toward the bloodstained end. Others looked to 
that end also. Upon the assembly had fallen a 
frightful and horrible silence, the palpitating fear 
of the gathered warriors making itself actually 
felt. 

“ Three days ago,” said Muir, 46 1 was talking 
with John Cross in the clearing of Black Sand. The 
scout Hogan brought Winnemac, White Loon, Elk- 
swatawa and their warriors to the spot. I was 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 151 


noosed and taken prisoner, as was my black brother 
yonder,” and he nodded toward Uncle Tom, who 
had been released by Black Sand and now lay 
unconscious on the ground. 66 Hogan basely mur¬ 
dered John Cross, profaning the spot with blood. I 
showed Elkswatawa the token of my brother Te- 
cumthe. The Prophet laughed, and at his bidding a 
certain Pottawatomie brave cut the token from my 
wrist and gave it to Hogan to wear. I do not need 
to tell my brother Tecumthe the name of that war¬ 
rior. The great red chief knows everything. To 
him and to Black Sand the Great Spirit whispered 
that we were in danger, and they came.” 

A flicker of gratification passed across the chief’s 
face at these words, then he turned. 

Muir saw the once lordly and masterful Prophet 
standing before them ashen-cheeked, stricken with 
fear. Out of all that shrinking circle of chiefs and 
great warriors, not one dared to break the silence. 
Tecumthe’s eyes swept over them like a consum¬ 
ing fire, and they withered beneath the gaze. Then 
the chief, his hand at the hatchet in his belt, slowly 
stepped forward. 

The circle of chiefs wavered at his approach, 
watched him in a horrible fascination. In the midst 
of that circle stood the white-painted warrior; his 
eyes were fastened on Tecumthe, and in the hideous 


152 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


face Muir discerned the fear of death. That fear 
was justified. Without a word, Tecumthe flung 
back his arm, and the tomahawk sped like a flash 
of light. One awful shriek burst from the warrior, 
then he fell with his skull cloven. 

“Dog!” 

Tecumthe had whirled, with that one spitting 
word. He threw himself forward and took the 
Prophet by the throat. For an instant Muir fancied 
that Tecumthe would slay his worthless brother on 
the spot, but the chief mastered his rage, flung the 
Prophet from him with a savage gesture, and then 
faced the crowd of warriors. His magnificent voice 
leaped out like a clarion. 

“ My brothers, I have witnessed your council. I 
have heard your words of wisdom. My brothers, 
Tecumthe sees that you have made a mistake, for 
you thought that he had summoned you to this coun¬ 
cil, when in fact it was Elkswatawa who called you. 
My brothers, I am here. Let us talk together.” 

That they understood his English words was 
evident. There was a general shiver of relief, and 
weapons were sheathed; still in the spell of their 
fear-struck silence, the red men turned and seated 
themselves again around the council fire. Tecumthe 
motioned to Muir, who accompanied him and took 
the indicated place at his side. On the ground still 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 153 


lay the heap of black belts, with the white wampum 
of the two Sacs to one side. 

Now there ensued a long silence, while the calu¬ 
met was made ready and passed around. Tecumthe 
himself performed this rite, passing the pipe first 
to Muir. Black Sand did not join them, but re¬ 
mained at the edge of the clearing, working over the 
figure of Tom. The Prophet took his place among 
the Shawano chiefs, but without the honor he had 
held a short while before. 

From Kenton, Muir had heard that of all the 
Indian tongues that of the Shawano tribe was the 
most musical and flexible. When at length Te¬ 
cumthe arose and began speaking, he found it true. 
Never had Muir heard such remarkable oratory, 
even from the lips of the great Henry Clay; though 
he could not understand the words, he could make 
out the sense of the speech from Tecumthe’s ges¬ 
tures, from the tones of that organ-like voice, and 
from the effects produced, 

Tecumthe swept into an impassioned address, 
his voice vibrating until it resounded from the cir¬ 
cling trees in bitter denunciation — then changed 
abruptly to the lowest and most rippling music 
that Muir had ever heard from human throat. 
Never again, he knew, would he hear such a com¬ 
mand of oratory as this Shawano chief possessed; 


154 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


like the red men themselves, he sat in spellbound 
tensity, gripped powerless. 

Tecumthe singled out the Prophet in his con¬ 
temptuous accusation, kicking aside the heap of 
wampum in angry disdain; and a terrible wave of 
anger went leaping through his words until the ter¬ 
rified Loud Voice bent under the storm, shame¬ 
lessly covered his face with his blanket, and sat 
thus beneath the whiplash of his brother’s elo¬ 
quence. 

Then, turning to the others, Tecumthe picked 
up the two white Sac belts which lay at his feet, 
and his voice and manner changed completely. 
Even Muir could understand the passionate appeal 
of those words, while the ringing, vibrant tones car¬ 
ried him aloft in their sheer beauty. That this was 
a plea for peace was clear enough. 

The great chief had not yet finished, however. 
Abandoning his appeal, he caught up one of those 
wrapped bundles, exactly as the Prophet had done. 
Tecumthe, too, stripped off the wrappings to ex¬ 
pose a musket and horn of powder. Holding these 
aloft, he addressed the assembled chiefs with such 
biting scorn, such evident denunciation of the Brit¬ 
ish and of the chiefs themselves, that Muir won¬ 
dered how they could calmly sit beneath the sting¬ 
ing flow of words. Nor could they. Uneasy grunts 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 155 


arose, and with a leap the infuriated White Loon 
suddenly came to his feet as though to interrupt. 

Then Muir saw how Tecumthe had lured his 
opponents on. This action of the Ottawa’s was a 
flagrant and unpardonable breach of council eti¬ 
quette. No sooner was White Loon on his feet than 
he realized his act; he was shamed, he had lost 
control of himself, and Tecumthe faced him with 
such an outburst of furious rage that he sank 
down again abashed and with his influence 
destroyed. Tecumthe whirled on the others, lash¬ 
ing them unmercifully with vitriolic words that 
searched them out and bit deeply. He took each 
chief in turn, and in turn each chief drew his blan¬ 
ket over his face and bowed to the storm. 

Then abruptly Tecumthe sat down — and, with 
the movement, he tossed the rifle and powder horn 
into the fire. 

There was no stagecraft or mummery about this. 
The horn exploded before any of the startled 
warriors could spring up; burned brands, shredded 
bits of horn and glowing embers showered the en¬ 
tire gathering. The dramatic effect was tremen¬ 
dous. Through it all sat Tecumthe, watching with 
keenly proud eyes; and, as the uproar subsided, he 
called to the Prophet and uttered a curt order. 
Cringing and in terrible fear, Elkswatawa picked 


156 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


up the war belts and threw them into what remained 
of the fire, and by this action destroyed all the in¬ 
fluence and power that he had built up for himself. 

Now Tecumthe paid his brother no further atten¬ 
tion, but called forth the chiefs one by one. They 
came, and, to Muir’s surprise, came with admira¬ 
tion and respect showing in their proud, fierce eyes; 
but proudest and fiercest of them all was Tecumthe, 
who remained seated as they flung at his feet the 
white belts which they had retained. Then, with a 
sweep of his hand toward the forest around, he 
dismissed them; and, taking the guns, they departed 
in silence. The Prophet vanished among the others. 

In less than a moment, Muir found himself alone 
with Tecumthe and the dead warrior. To one side. 
Black Sand was holding Tom in his arms. The 
tension removed, Muir leaped up and strode hur¬ 
riedly to the side of the old negro, whose feet and 
legs had been much burned but who was otherwise 
unhurt. Taking Tom’s hand, Muir looked up into 
the face of Black Sand. 

“ Whether I owe greater thanks to you or to 
Tecumthe, I know not,” he said gravely, and in his 
other hand gripped that of Black Sand. Tecumthe 
had joined them, and Black Sand gave the chief a 
swift glance. 

“You owe thanks to none but God,” rejoined 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 157 


Black Sand. “ Guided by Him, I returned home 
a few hours after you had left the clearing, and 
with me was this gentleman,” for so, quaintly but 
justly, he usually termed the chief. “ We found the 
body of John —” 

66 Alice!” exclaimed Muir eagerly. 66 Was she 
there? Had Hogan carried her off?” 

“ So it would seem, sir,” assented Black Sand 
sadly. 66 From the signs of the earth, we ascertained 
much that had happened. Since Alice had departed 
with a white man, we followed the larger trail. It 
was important that this gentleman should learn the 
designs of his despicable brother. This we have 
done, and have defeated them.” 

46 Kenton—” 

46 Is at Vincennes. What of Alice? Surely not 
even the Prophet dared to injure her? And how 
came your knife in the throat of poor John?” 

“ Peace!” groaned Muir. “If there is food, 
let’s eat and I’ll give you the tale. We are half 
starved. For you, Teeumthe, I have grave and im¬ 
portant news.” 

There was no lack of game in the camp. Tecum- 
the secured some bear’s fat and managed to re¬ 
lieve the pain of Tom’s burns; after which, with 
evening close at hand, Muir told of that last event¬ 
ful morning at Black Sand’s settlement. When he 


158 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


related what Cross had said about Hogan and 
General Harrison, he saw the brown fingers of the 
chief contract and open again convulsively, but 
Tecumthe’s face did not change, nor did he speak. 

Black Sand, too, sat wordless. His head drooped 
a little on his right shoulder and he pulled at his 
pendulous lower lip while he listened, but no grief 
did he show over the death of John Cross, and no 
anxiety regarding the fate of Alice. 

46 1 suppose,” said Muir to him in conclusion, 
44 that you will accept my aid in safely recovering 
Alice? Hogan must have taken her to Vincennes, 
unless he has deposited her with some Indians or 
settlers —” 

44 She is in the hands of God, friend Muir,” 
observed Black Sand. 44 No harm will come to her, 
be assured. If Hogan took her to Vincennes, all 
is well. Simon Kenton is even now in that town, 
and he would know her and care for her. But more 
likely, Hogan has hidden her with some outlying 
family, perhaps in the Prophet’s Town. Now leave 
her fate in higher hands than ours, for we have 
greater matters to discuss.” 

Indeed, the man seemed to speak of Alice Cross 
indifferently, almost hurriedly, as though things 
of more importance weighed upon him. Shocked 
though he might be, Muir knew that Black Sand 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 159 


was not to be hastened or bullied. For a moment he 
chafed, however, until Tecumthe spoke. 

“ My brother Black Bear speaks with a single 
tongue. He has borne me bad news of Hogan and 
others. He has seen that these chiefs have given 
me belts of peace. Is it so?” 

“ Aye,” assented Muir. “ Tecumthe’s voice was 
to them like the wind to the autumn leaves.” 

The chief smiled, but the smile was sad. 

“ My father Black Sand, for many winters I 
have prayed at your side to the Great Spirit. I have 
kept my young men from the war trail, I have kept 
whiskey from their lodges. I have taught them to 
till the ground and to hunt game, to live in peace 
and to pray the Great Spirit. Does Tecumthe speak 
with a single tongue, my father?” 

“ He does,” said Black Sand curtly. 

“ My father has seen that I have kept faith with 
Governor Harrison. My young men have been 
slain, my lands have been seized, my hunting 
grounds have been despoiled, and the Long Knife 
has not kept faith with me. Is it so, my father?” 

“ It is so,” assented Black Sand. Tecumthe 
paused, then went on slowly. 

“ My father speaks with the tongue of the Great 
Spirit. He has heard the words of my brother Black 
Bear. He has heard how the Long Knife wishes to 


160 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


force war upon Tecumthe. He knows that Tecumthe 
goes from here to meet Governor Harrison. My 
father, shall it be white wampum or black wam¬ 
pum? Let my father speak. Tecumthe will obey.” 

With a start of amazement, Muir searched the 
grave, noble features of the Indian and found them 
as though carved from granite. Thrilling to the 
very thought, he realized that in this moment was 
history being made — that Tecumthe was trembling 
in the balance between peace and the war to which 
he seemed irrevocably forced. And what was this 
about a meeting with the governor? 

Now the Kentuckian saw what had so terribly 
overpowered Black Sand, even to forgetfulness of 
those whom he loved; for upon the words of this 
singular creature there now depended the peace 
of the frontier. The Moravian held his peace a 
little space; he had ceased to pull at his lip, and in¬ 
stead was playing with a few grains of powder 
taken from his pocket. 

“ Brother,” he began slowly, a gathering firm¬ 
ness in his querulous tone, 66 the British are urging 
your warriors to take up the hatchet. The Long 
Knives also would force war upon you, because 
you have injured their whiskey trade and because 
they fear your greatness; so they seek a pretext to 
destroy your town. These things we know. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 161 


46 Brother, you have formed all the red men into 
a confederacy of peace. The black sand of destruc¬ 
tion is not sown in the wilderness, and the Great 
Spirit loves his red children. The tribes are allied, 
and soon you go to the south to bring the Creeks 
and Cherokees into this federation of peace and 
good will. Is this so?” 

44 It is so, my father.” Tecumthe stared into the 
gathering night, his face set and stern. Black Sand 
pursued his address. 

44 1 will tell you what shall come to pass, Te¬ 
cumthe, and you shall remember my words. Before 
you are two trails. You may move all your young 
men and your tribes and your council fire into the 
country of the Illinois where there are no white 
men, making alliance with the Sacs and the Sioux, 
and there you shall wax great. You may preserve 
peace with the Long Knives, who cannot reach you, 
and with each moon your dream shall grow to ful¬ 
fillment. This is one trail. 

44 Here is the other trail: You may take up the 
hatchet, and you shall perish. Your council fire 
shall he stamped out. Your young men shall die. 
Your lands shall pass to the Long Knives. The 
black sand of destruction shall wipe out your name. 
I have spoken.” 

Black Sand’s voice fell, and his head drooped 


162 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


again upon his shoulder. The Kentuckian sat star¬ 
ing, intent, utterly fascinated by the eagle-like 
features of Tecumthe. Never had he seen more ex¬ 
pressive features than those, although the chief sat 
gazing before him with unseeing eyes. At the first 
words of Black Sand, a glory had lighted up the 
red man’s face — the glory of a visionary, who 
sees before him some great dream growing to sure 
accomplishment. Then this radiance passed and 
faded, to be succeeded by a look of such utter sad¬ 
ness that Muir was appalled by its stern agony. In 
this instant he saw the greatness of this red man, 
the high nobility of his spirit, the terrible struggle 
that was consuming the very soul of him. Suddenly 
Tecumthe spoke, in an agonized voice. 

66 My father, I am a warrior. Is it not better to 
die with honor, to see my tree cut down by the 
hatchets of lesser men, than to see it flourish in the 
shadow of dishonor and cowardice? What would 
the Great Spirit think of Tecumthe, did his scalp 
lock grow gray among the Sioux and his young 
men till the ground of strangers because they could 
not keep the lands of their fathers? No! I can 
lead five thousand warriors on the war path!” 

66 Brother,” cried out Black Sand, startling 
vigor thrilling his tone, “I tell you this! The 
Great Spirit whispers to me that Tecumthe has been 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 163 


chosen to lead His red children out of bondage; 
that in the western country of the Illinois, where 
there are no white men, Tecumthe shall build up 
such a confederacy as shall make the Long Knives 
pause forever; that Tecumthe shall there kindle a 
council fire that will never be stamped out. Choose, 
chief of the Shawanoes! Choose between the Evil 
One and the Great Spirit!” 

With a gesture, the Indian drew his blanket over 
his bowed head, but not before Muir had caught 
the glimmer of a tear on his cheek. 

Now for a long space there was silence, a tense 
and drawn silence of waiting. Under cover of that 
blanket, Tecumthe was fighting the battle within 
himself; in that stillness, Muir could actually hear 
the grains of powder slowly gritting between the 
restless fingers of the old Moravian. Then, abruptly, 
Tecumthe flung off the blanket, raised his head, 
and a smile sat upon his proud features. 

“ My father,” he said to Black Sand, “the Great 
Spirit has whispered to my heart that you have 
spoken well. Listen! I shall obtain a pledge of 
peace from my chiefs. I shall smoke the calumet 
with Governor Harrison, and my young men shall 
look upon Vincennes and they shall see that peace 
is good. Then I shall go to the Creek and Cherokee 
nations ? and bind them in a federacy of peace, and 


164 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


the hatchet shall be buried.” He paused a 
moment, then went on, his eyes kindling eagerly. 

“ My father, when I return from the south I 
shall move my council fire to the west. Already the 
Sac chiefs and the Sioux are my brothers. My 
people shall enter into their towns, and the Great 
Spirit shall guide us. There shall be one council 
fire for the red men. There shall be no more taking 
of scalps. Tecumthe has said.” 

Muir glanced at Black Sand, and found the man’s 
face drawn, haggard, ghastly with the tenseness of 
his concentration. Tecumthe rose and strode away 
among the trees; and after a little Black Sand 
looked at Muir and broke the silence, a terrible 
earnestness in his voice. 

“ Mr. Muir, you have seen a great thing this eve¬ 
ning. My very soul is aching for that man who has 
just left us.” 

66 Why?” demanded Muir, astonished. 

“ Because, sir, I think that black treachery will 
annihilate him. Yet it cannot be helped; God has 
given me to speak, and I have spoken. It may be, 
after all, that the black sand of destruction shall 
never again be strewn in this wilderness — yes, 
it may be that there shall be one shedding of blood, 
and then no more —” 

Then, abruptly dismissing his vague phrases, 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 165 


Black Sand fell into swift talk, and Muir was given 
a lucid understanding of many things. It proved 
that Tecum the and Black Sand had been in the 
north, binding peace and federation upon the Otta- 
was and Pottawatomies there. At the Prophet’s 
Town, upon their return, they had met Sime Kenton 
bearing messages from Governor Harrison. It 
was now close to the end of July, and before the 
end of the month Tecumthe was to bring certain 
of his chiefs to hold a conference with Harrison at 
Vincennes. But, previous to this conference, the 
chief was to meet Harrison in private and arrange 
matters which could not well be thrashed out in 
public council. This private meeting was to take 
place within two days. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Muir learned that at 
the present moment he was less than two hundred 
yards from the Wabash itself, and only ten miles 
below the Prophet’s Town. 

Now that the strain of concentration was over. 
Black Sand discussed the question of Alice, and 
what should be done in her behalf. Also, Uncle 
Tom was unable to follow a trail, and would be 
disabled for some little time to come. Therefore, 
since canoes were hidden close by on the river, the 
Moravian suggested that he take Tom to the 
Prophet’s Town, later to return to his own settle- 


166 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


ment, while Muir went on with Tecumthe to the 
private meeting with Harrison. 

“ But what would the chief say to such a 
scheme?” objected the astonished Kentuckian. “He 
has not asked me to go. Besides, you are the one—” 

“Nay, not I!” retorted Black Sand. “I have 
no liking for Harrison, and I will have no deal¬ 
ings with him. As for Tecumthe, he likes you 
mightily, as you have had proof this day. He will 
be glad of your company, perhaps of your advice, 
for your tongue is not forked. Then, in regard to 
Alice, you may confer with Kenton, and if Hogan 
has not taken her to Vincennes we must begin a 
search. I will soon discover if she is in the 
Prophet’s Town.” 

The warriors of Tecumthe were to march slowly 
toward Vincennes, to be joined by the chief after the 
private interview with Harrison. This meeting 
was to be arranged by Kenton, so that each side 
was free from any suspicion of treachery, both 
red men and white trusting the old scout implicitly. 
After talking over the scheme at length, Muir ad¬ 
mitted that Black Sand was exceeding wise in 
counsel, and accepted the plan. While they were 
still discussing it, Tecumthe returned and was made 
acquainted with Black Sand’s proposal. 

“ My brother Black Bear shall paddle with me,” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 167 


he said, and made a gesture of finality. “ Now let 
us sleep, for we must be off early.” 

Muir laid himself down beside Tom, to whom he 
explained the situation. The poor negro had no 
liking for his visit to the Indian town in the com¬ 
pany of Black Sand, but he had no choice in the 
matter. Besides, he had come to place some faith 
in the Moravian. 

So the Kentuckian slept, nor dreamed what 
heartsick days awaited him. 


CHAPTER X 


9 Ware the wolf of vows! Who makes 
A promise glibly , glibly breaks. 

In the stem of the canoe sat Tecumthe, brown, 
stalwart, tireless, his birdlike eyes ever flitting 
from bank to bank of the river. In the bow was 
David Muir, less used to the paddle and somewhat 
awkward with his blade; at his right wrist now 
dangled another of those leather tokens, made over¬ 
night by Tecumthe and marked with the chief’s own 
totem. 

Down this same river, the Kentuckian knew, had 
passed the forgotten heroes of aforetime. Here, 
on this same Ouabache, had paddled La Salle and 
Tonti. Here had voyaged the black robes, followed 
by St. Ange and the Sieur de Vincennes. Hither 
had come those mongrels of the New World, the 
coureur de bois , naked and painted like the sav¬ 
ages— fur hunters, rovers, freebooters of the 
wilderness who acknowledged no law and who 
feared neither God, man nor devil. But their day 
was long past. 

On these waters had fought other men — Pontiac 
and his Ottawas, the now exterminated Illinois, the 
168 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 169 


Chickasaws who slew Vincennes, the Iroquois and 
the Menomines, called by the French the Folles 
Avoines, and by the English settlers Fallsavines. 
These, too, had vanished from the stage, and in 
their place had come Delawares and Shawanoes 
and tribes of lesser renown, with the wave of leath- 
er-shirted white men shoving them all steadily into 
the westward. Thinking of these things, Muir looked 
back at Tecumthe and wondered what lay in the 
future for this lordly chieftain. 

Of himself, the Kentuckian recked little. After 
his illness he had become whole of body again, 
and all the past seemed very dim and distant. At 
times he remembered the golden eagle of the Cin¬ 
cinnati with a mellowed bitterness; but on this 
morning, at the end of July, he was enthralled by 
the present. There was the rescue of Alice Cross 
to be pushed, and with every hour his resolve to 
recover her grew firmer. And he knew that he 
wanted to recover her, not for her heritage, but 
for herself. 

“ What matters her money, after all?” thought 
Muir to himself. 66 Money is naught, save to scoun¬ 
drels like Hogan, who is already wealthy and yet 
holds insatiate lust after more wealth! I have 
given my own energy to throwing away money; let 
me give it to making money, and by gad, I’ll equal 


170 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


her wealth inside a year’s time! First, though, to 
find and bestow her in safety; then to make pay¬ 
ment for my father’s murder—” 

The slightly ironical voice of Tecumthe cut into 
his reflections. 

“ The Black Bear is very strong, but if he will 
turn his paddle to the stroke, Tecumthe will not 
become weary before sunset.” 

Only then was Muir aware that he had been 
driving down his paddle with tremendous forth¬ 
right strokes that gave the chief all the burden of 
steering. He laughed shortly. 

“The Black Bear, Chief, is not accustomed to 
the ways of fish!” 

Tecumthe chuckled at this rejoinder, and had no 
further fault to find. 

The meeting with Governor Harrison was to take 
place on the following evening, but the exact spot 
was yet unknown to Tecumthe. Vincennes lay a 
hundred and fifty miles down the river, and the 
chief desired to cover two-thirds of the distance that 
day, in order that he might communicate with 
Simon Kenton on the following morning and learn 
the location of the interview. 

It was well for Muir that his strength had re¬ 
turned. The two days of rough travel with the band 
of the Prophet, followed by that preliminary tor- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 171 


ture, had told heavily upon him; and now from 
dawn to dark he found his body driven like a 
machine. Unused to a canoe as he was, he made 
hard going of it. 

Hour after hour they flashed on down the wind¬ 
ing reaches of the Wabash, until Muir’s blade hung 
like lead in his hands and his shoulders were 
racked with weariness. None the less, he swung 
steadily to the rhythm of the work — down, back, 
up — down, back, up — until the beady eyes of the 
chief rested on his broad back in stern approval. 
Then, as dusk gathered, Tecumthe swung the craft 
in toward a point of land. 

With a great sigh of relief, Muir dragged his 
stiffened limbs from the canoe, caught the “ fire 
bag ” which the chief tossed him, and with flint, 
steel and punk got a fire aglow. Ere he had 
finished, Tecumthe’s rifle barked amid the trees, 
and the Indian appeared bearing a plump turkey. 

When at last he could eat no more, Muir rolled 
up beneath the overturned canoe and slept. His 
last memory was of Tecumthe, sitting before the 
fire and staring into the embers as though beholding 
his great dream of empery unfolding there; and 
when Muir wakened at dawn, there the chieftain 
still sat with eyes fixed upon the fire, as though he 
had been in the same posture all night. 


172 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


They breakf asted on the remnants of the turkey, 
after which Tecumthe heaped green boughs on the 
fire and by skillful manipulations of his hunting 
shirt sent up a dozen soft, billowy waves of thick 
smoke that rose slowly on the still air of the morn¬ 
ing. He then motioned Muir toward the canoe and 
condescended to explain that the smoke was a sig¬ 
nal, not only to Kenton, but to a large party of 
warriors and squaws who were marching south to 
meet him near Vincennes for the public conference 
with Harrison. 

66 Why do you bring squaws to a council fire?” 
asked Muir, puzzled. 

“ To show my white brothers that Tecumthe 
comes in peace.” 

There was some reason in this, thought Muir, 
when he discovered that the party of warriors 
numbered three hundred — not a fifth of those 
who were now under Tecumthe’s direct command, 
not a tenth of those whom he could summon to his 
aid within a fortnight’s time. Fifteen hundred war¬ 
riors at the Prophet’s Town! The realization was 
a shock to Muir. Now he began to see why the 
whole border feared Tecumthe’s growing power; 
should the chieftain turn his checked avalanche 
loose upon the frontier, nothing could withstand 
him. No wonder that the Vincennes settlement. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 173 


closest of all to the sweep of this potential besom 
of destruction, was filled with wildest panic and 
apprehension. 

The two men paddled straight on through the 
morning. Muir was stiff and sore, but bent himself 
to the labor in grim resolution. What was to come 
of this affair, so far as he himself was concerned, 
he could not imagine; at least, Kenton would know 
if Alice had come to the post at Vincennes, and he 
might have news of Hogan also. 

If the Indian caught any warning signals, Muir 
could not tell. Yet, when they sighted a canoe and 
two white men on the shore of a promontory ahead, 
Tecumthe betrayed no surprise and headed for the 
spot. Muir recognized the tall figure of Kenton, 
and waved his paddle joyously. Beside Kenton 
stood another figure in uniform, which at first 
seemed to be that of Harrison; but Muir sensed his 
mistake as the canoe drove in to the shore. This 
was a very handsome officer, while he had heard 
that Harrison was anything but good looking. 

The Kentuckian leaped out and gripped the hand 
of Kenton. Tecumthe followed, and they were both 
introduced to the officer, who proved to be a lieuten¬ 
ant colonel, Zebulon M. Pike by name. 

“ Pike came along to meet you,” drawled Ken¬ 
ton to the chief. 66 The gen’ral’s down river quite a 


174 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


spell. Take Pike with you, Tecumthe, and mebbe 
you kin git a line on each other and swap some 
peace talk.” 

“ My brother is welcome to my canoe,” said 
Tecumthe simply. 

They re-embarked as Kenton had suggested. 
Muir stepped into the canoe of the hunter, and 
Kenton shoved off, the other two following. With 
suppressed eagerness, Muir turned to his friend. 

66 Have you seen Alice Cross? Or Hogan?” 

Kenton’s eyes widened slightly as he scrutinized 
the Kentuckian. 

“Who — me?” he said in surprise. “No, I 
ain’t. But I jedge from your looks that you been 
in a scrimmage lately. Whar’s that big nigger of 
your’n?” 

Muir settled down to the paddling, jerking out 
his story as he worked. Since Alice had not come 
to Vincennes, Hogan must have placed her else¬ 
where, probably in safe hands, although he might 
have started with her for Louisville direct. More 
likely, however, the former conjecture was the 
case. Black Sand had predicted exactly such a 
course, and Muir had gained a wholesome respect 
for the uncanny sagacity of the old Moravian. 
Kenton heard the tale in silence, striking in here and 
there with an incisive query, but offering no com- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 175 


ment. Finally he glanced back at the other canoe, 
then spoke swiftly, as though not desiring to have 
any further discussion at present. 

“ I’d half promised the gen’ral to jine this here 
campaign, friend Dave, but I’m glad to git out of 
it. I reckon you and me goes another trail — say! 
You talk to the gen’ral about that cuss Hogan. Do 
it tonight, after Tecumthe gits gone. See what the 
ol’ man says, fust of all.” 

Muir nodded. After all, why not? Surely, did 
Harrison know the caliber of Hogan, did he know 
that the scout was deliberately fomenting the In¬ 
dians to the warpath, Hogan’s day would soon be 
over. Besides, such a dastardly act as the murder 
of John Cross, such an infamy as Hogan had 
schemed against both brother and sister, could not 
be allowed to go unpunished. With this reflection, 
Muir paddled ahead in new eagerness, confident 
that ere many days he would have his enemy laid 
by the heels. 

Evening was just gathering when they sighted a 
fire ahead, and paddled in to find two dark figures 
awaiting them. Kenton’s canoe was well in the lead. 
As it touched the shore, the two figures came down 
to meet them. 

“ General Kenton?” snapped a harsh voice. 

“ Old Sime it is,” returned the frontiersman, 


176 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


shaking hands. “ Gen’ral, this here is my partic’ler 
friend, David Muir, who’s up from Kaintuck.” 

“ Your servant, Mr. Muir.” Harrison gripped 
the hand of Muir, then turned. “ Gentlemen, come 
up to the fire. Mr. Muir, this is Mr. Zachary Tay¬ 
lor, a captain in the Fourth Regiment — I think 
you know Kenton, Zach? Where is Tecumthe, 
gentlemen?” 

“ Cornin’ with Pike,” said the frontiersman. 

They advanced to the fire, where slices of veni¬ 
son were roasting. With much interest, Muir in¬ 
spected Harrison and found him a rugged-featured 
man whose naturally kindly countenance seemed 
deep in troubled thought. Taylor, too, was of the 
same rough type; while neither of them lacked in 
strength of character, they obviously paid little at¬ 
tention to military regulations, both being garbed 
in semi-uniform costume. 

Now the other canoe drew in, and Harrison rose 
to shake hands with Tecumthe, while young Taylor 
prepared the venison. Muir found it hard to credit 
that in the hands of these men lay the destiny of 
peoples; the meeting was matter-of-fact, without 
tension, as though a party of hunters had gathered 
around their evening fire, instead of men whose 
names were household words along the frontier. 

Harrison had some bread, none too clean. Te- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 177 


cumthe contributed a quantity of corn, and with 
these and the venison a satisfactory meal was pro¬ 
vided. While eating, they talked — but not of the 
frontier. Pike had traveled extensively, it proved, 
on expeditions far into the unexplored west, and 
Muir, like Kenton, was amazed at hearing what the 
extent of Louisiana was really like. Taylor, too, 
had been to New Orleans and had for some time 
held Fort Massac, at the junction of the Ohio and 
Mississippi, in the midst of a savage land, and had 
tales to tell. 

After a little, quite naturally, Kenton drifted off 
into the darkness. Pike lifted his brows at Muir, 
Zach Taylor rose with them, and they, too, sought 
the shadow of the trees. Harrison and Tecumthe 
remained sitting by the fire. As he watched these 
two from some little distance, Muir saw that the 
Indian was speaking slowly and gravely; his words 
were not hard to guess. There was no mummery of 
calumet or wampum, for Tecumthe was above these 
things except when far in the forest among his own 
folk. Harrison sat motionless, staring into the fire 
as he listened, and gloom sat ever darker upon his 
rough-hewn features. 

“ Does the redskin want war, Mr. Muir?” queried 
Taylor softly. 

“ Not so. He has taken peace belts from all his 


178 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


chiefs,” responded Muir, not without a feeling of 
surprise at the question. 

Taylor grunted harshly. 

46 Huh! If I was Harrison, there’d be no such 
palavering as this! ’Fore gad, I’d have the army 
at them cussed redskins inside of a week! It ain’t 
the way —” 

46 You forget yourself, Mr. Taylor,” came the 
gravely rebuking tones of Pike, and after this no 
further words were spoken by the group. 

When Tecumthe had finished his speech, Harri¬ 
son replied at length. The chief broke in with a 
sharp word, and the two men straightway aban¬ 
doned any pretense of the usual Indian ceremonial 
council. Here were no stately pauses, no tricks of 
oratory, but simply an extremely animated discus¬ 
sion in which Harrison seemed to be admitting 
point after point. The watchers could see by the 
gestures of Tecumthe that the latter was forcing 
Harrison to one admission after another, and the 
face of Harrison grew ever darker. 

Muir found in Taylor’s words a reflection of the 
prevailing border sentiment. Indians were animals, 
and the sooner they were destroyed the better. Yet, 
remembering that Black Sand disliked Harrison 
and would not meet him, remembering a dozen 
little inconsidered trifles, Muir found himself puz- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 179 


zled and wondering. Hogan’s scheme would never 
be allowed to go forward now, surely! 

Then, with unexpected abruptness, the two men at 
the fire had risen and were shaking hands. Harri¬ 
son’s voice lifted for the first time, in words that 
the others could overhear plainly. 

“—be assured that so long as your warriors 
keep peace, my men shall keep it. I am sorry 
that we cannot agree about those lands, Tecumthe.” 

“ Brother,” came the grave response, “there is 
one way in which we can agree. When I return 
from my visit in the south, those lands shall be 
ceded to you. Farewell!” 

Leaving Harrison to gaze after him in amazed 
silence, the chief turned and stalked to his canoe. 
Once he glanced around and lifted his hand as 
though in farewell to Muir and Kenton; then he 
pushed out and was gone, Harrison standing 
motionless. 

The figure of Sime Kenton stepped into the 
circle of firelight, and Muir walked in with the 
two officers. Harrison turned to them; but in his 
features was none of the satisfaction which Muir 
had thought to find there. Instead, his face was 
more anxious and frowning than ever. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Harrison curtly, “there is to 
be no war in this country, except it be openly begun 


180 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


by the redskins. Tecumthe is quite in accord with 
us.” 

“ You don’t seem a whole lot pleased, Gen’ral,” 
observed Kenton, whom Muir had apprised of 
Tecumthe’s resolve to move his whole settlement 
into the Illinois region. “ It ain’t to be doubted 
that Tecumthe kin do his part, if you kin keep your 
sojers to heel.” 

Harrison flashed him a swift, startled glance. 

“ Do you doubt my ability in that direction, 
sir?” 

“ Not a mite, Gen’ral, not a mite!” Kenton, 
leaning on his long rifle, gazed calmly at the gov¬ 
ernor, as though trying to read what secrets lay 
behind that rugged face. But, in the steely eyes of 
the frontiersman, Muir read something very like 
a menace — less in the look itself, than in some 
intuition, some half-sensed feeling, bom of the 
look. Perhaps Harrison felt this also, for he smiled 
quickly with an effort at cordiality. 

“ If it ever chanced that we had trouble on the 
border. General, I’d give a good deal to have you 
as my chief of scouts.” 

“ Thankee.” Kenton jerked his head slightly. 
“ If Tecumthe takes up the hatchet, I reckon I’ll 
be some’eres in the scrimmage. But he’s agoin’ 
off to the south, and whilst he’s gone, his warriors 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 181 


ain’t goin’ to pick no fight. He’s done attended to 
that a few days ago. So there won’t be no war. 
Don’t that stand plumb to reason?” 

Harrison flushed slightly, even in the firelight, 
and with a curt nod of assent turned away, evidently 
repressing some impolitic reply. Muir, suddenly 
remembering his own urgent affairs, stepped for¬ 
ward. 

“ May I crave a moment’s talk in private, sir?” 

“ Certainly,” responded Harrison. 66 Mr. Pike, 
kindly make ready our canoe, for I will have let¬ 
ters to write tonight and must be back early. If 
you’ll step aside with me, Mr. Muir, I shall be 
entirely at your service.” 

They walked aside beneath the shadowing trees, 
and Muir quietly told of the murder of John Cross 
and the scoundrelism of Philip Hogan. He made 
no mention of his own story, but after relating the 
occurrences at Black Sand’s settlement, prayed 
Harrison to have Hogan laid by the heels and to 
take Alice Cross under his own protection, did the 
scout bring her to Vincennes. Harrison at this 
point interrupted him curtly. 

“ I am much astonished at this story, Mr. Muir. 
Captain Hogan is one of my best scouts and a highly 
valuable man. He is even now transacting some 
private business for me at the Shaker settlement, 


182 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


eighteen miles north of Vincennes. Black Sand, on 
the contrary, is a poor, crazed wanderer —” 

“This is no place for comparisons, sir,” broke 
in Muir. “ I am asking you for justice on a scoun¬ 
drel. If you will do nothing in the matter of the 
murder, at least protect Madame Alice Cross!” 

“ That I will do right gladly, if the young lady 
stands in any need,” responded the other. 66 Yet, 
sir, I cannot but think that you are mistaken in this 
whole matter. Mr. Hogan is my most valuable 
scout, whose services are of inestimable worth to 
the territory under my control —” 

“ Tut, tut!” broke in Muir, whose temper was 
straining at the leash. “ Are your soldiers amen¬ 
able to the laws? Have you the assurance to say 
that they shall deliberately commit murder and go 
unpunished or unquestioned by you?” 

“ I am governor of this territory, sir,” snapped 
Harrison in cold accents, “and I do not accept 
dictation from every chance woods runner. Bring 
proof of your statements and I will act. If you 
cannot —” 

“ Do you call me a liar, then?” Muir’s voice 
shook with passion. 

“ I do not, sir,” came the cold response. “ Your 
unsupported word, however, will not hang a man, 
as you should certainly know.” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 183 


“ Then, Mr. Harrison, listen to this!” exclaimed 
the Kentuckian. 66 Your worthy Hogan has told 
more than one person of a scheme to attack the 
Prophet’s Town under the guise of peace; whether 
or not it is your own scheme, I do not know or care. 
But Hogan has told of his own attempts to incite 
certain chiefs to war. I learned of this last night, 
and I so informed Tecumthe himself.” 

For all his anger, Muir was keeping himself 
well in hand. He perceived that the whole situation 
was tense, that behind it all must be something of 
which he stood in ignorance. At his final words, 
however, he heard Harrison draw in a sharp breath 
as though keenly startled. Then Harrison spoke in 
a changed voice, softly and almost with appeal. 

“ Mr. Muir, you have thrust yourself into a most 
serious business. Allow me to tell you, sir, that 
when a man is working for the public good, espe¬ 
cially if he holds a high position, he must do things 
and must use instruments which he would find 
abhorrent to touch in his own private behalf. As 
for this Madame Cross, I have never heard of her; 
but I promise you that, when the opportunity 
offers, I shall investigate the matter thoroughly.” 

“ Your Excellency is most kind, sir,” said Muir, 
his voice quick with bitter irony. 46 1 am sorry to 
learn that Hogan is carrying out your commands 


184 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


when he incites the Indians to attack the border.” 

Harrison cut in with words of swift, incisive 
menace. 

44 Do not try to learn too much, Mr. Muir. I 
recommend that you return to Kentucky, sir, with 
the least possible delay. If you are tempted to 
visit Vincennes, reconsider the visit unless you de¬ 
sire to find yourself in unpleasant quarters. Sir, 
your servant.” 

With this curt farewell, Harrison walked down to 
the waiting canoe, leaving Muir silent but white- 
lipped with rage. He watched, motionless, while 
the governor and his two officers paddled off into 
the darkness, then he strode in to the fire, where 
Kenton still stood leaning on his long rifle as though 
in deep thought. 

“Threats!” reflected Muir. “Threats! Is Har¬ 
rison afraid of what I might tell? But surely that’s 
impossible.” 

In response to Kenton’s look of interrogation, 
Muir repeated what had passed in his talk with 
Harrison, and found himself no longer bewildered. 
Harrison was playing a deep and subtle game, in 
which Hogan was a highly essential factor; the 
outcome of this intrigue was to be the destruction of 
the Prophet’s Town and the stamping out of the 
rising Indian power. In comparison with such 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 185 


business, the murder of John Cross was as nothing; 
although, to give Harrison his due, the governor 
would probably extend protection to Alice Cross. 

Sime Kenton shook his head sadly, and in his 
deep eyes gathered a mournful expression. 

“ I reckon the A’mighty knows His own ways, 
friend Dave, but sometimes His ways come power¬ 
ful hard. Tecumthe ain’t agoin’ to break his word, 
and he trusts Harrison — well, let it go fer now. 
What be you figgerin’ on doin’ next?” 

66 I’m going north to reach that Shaker settle¬ 
ment Harrison mentioned,” said Muir. “ He said 
that Hogan was there. I’ll either settle matters 
with him or know the reason why. It may be that 
Alice is there. You’ll come with me?” 

To his surprise, Kenton dissented. 

“No. I reckon I’ll trail up to Black Sand’s 
place and git him, in the canoe. It ain’t fur into 
the trace from here, due east. We’re about six 
mile north o’ Vincennes. You strike in to the trace, 
git on to that thar Shaker town, and wait thar fer 
me and Black Sand. How ’bout it? Agreed?” 

Muir nodded. He felt too utterly depressed for 
further speech. Hogan was set beyond his reach 
by Harrison’s protection, and Alice might or might 
not find herself secure at Vincennes. Tecumthe 
was being netted and snared in some slow but cer- 


186 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


tain manner. He himself had made a mess of 
things with Harrison through letting his temper 
dictate a few words. 

Altogether, David Muir had more cause for bit¬ 
terness of soul on this night than he had had since 
his last meeting with Henry Clay. Or so, at least, 
he told himself. 


CHAPTER XI 


An ale word is an ill word ever; 

Men who know this, heed it never. 

Of the historic meeting between Harrison and 
the red chieftains on that twenty-seventh of July, 
David Muir saw nothing. He was well north of 
Vincennes and was engaged in his business of 
vengeance and rescue. 

Immediately after that meeting, as he knew, 
Tecumthe was going to the far south, and would 
be out of Indiana for some time. Kenton spoke of 
this as they parted; and was able to provide Muir 
with a rifle to replace his own weapon. Also, Ken¬ 
ton stated that Tecumthe had mentioned a repay¬ 
ment of the loan of weapons which Muir had made 
him in Kentucky, but nothing had come of it and 
the chieftain had presumably overlooked the matter. 

So, then, the two friends parted at the Wabash, 
and Muir headed in through the woods from the 
river. After some rough traveling, he emerged 
upon the trace. This was little better than a blazed 
trail leading from Vincennes to the one or two little 
187 


188 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


settlements existing north of that post. The Ken¬ 
tuckian greeted the wagon ruts with a sigh of relief, 
and paused to prime his rifle. 

“The Shaker settlement must be about twelve 
miles north of here,” he reflected. “ Now let Har¬ 
rison and Tecumthe fight out their own struggle! I 
owe Hogan a debt of my own, with heavy interest 
on my father’s debt; and I have Alice Cross to find. 
By gad, if I see Hogan this day, Harrison’s protec¬ 
tion will avail him little!” 

Having got his rifle prepared to his liking, Muir 
struck into the trace. Scarcely had he done so, 
however, when he halted again and turned; the 
whinny of a horse had sounded from somewhere in 
the rear, and he quietly drew into the shelter of 
some bushes and waited to see who came. 

It proved to be a horseman riding from the direc¬ 
tion of Vincennes, and Muir had no need to cock 
his rifle. The rider was rubicund and jolly of 
aspect, his big steed was laden with flour bags, and 
the wide hat and sober garb apprised Muir that 
this must be some member of the Shaker com¬ 
munity. So, indeed, it proved when the rider came 
up and drew rein. 

“ Good day, friend,” said he, in a wheezy voice. 
“ Is thee going to the meeting of warlike men at 
Vincennes?” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 189 


“ No,” said Muir. “ To the settlement of Shakers, 
of whom I take you to be one, sir.” 

“ Elias Powell, at thy service.” 

The Kentuckian gave his name and asked at once 
if Powell knew anything of Hogan. The Shaker, 
however, had been for three days past at the Vin¬ 
cennes mills and could tell him nothing of the 
scout. 

“ If thee is willing to journey with me, friend 
Muir, let us go on together. Thee is a man of 
learning, and we may discourse profitably on the 
road.” 

Muir assented gladly, and fell in beside the stir¬ 
rup of the Shaker. Powell, who was a man of some 
education, told how he had come from Pennsyl¬ 
vania and proceeded to evince the utmost curiosity 
regarding Muir’s life, pursuits and present business 
in the Territory of Indiana. Wearying of his ques¬ 
tions, Muir finally answered him with characteristic 
bluntness. 

“ As for my life, sir, I have most of it still to 
live, I trust. My pursuit is after a golden eagle of 
the Cincinnati society, and my present business is 
to kill a man. There you have the entire scroll, at 
your service.” 

“ Hm!” Powell pursed up his lips and gazed 
down at Muir. 66 Thee is a man of parts, friend 


190 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Muir. ’Tis a pity that thee belongs to that pesti¬ 
lential order of knighthood which threatens to over¬ 
turn all our established democracy —” 

“What find you against the Cincinnati?” de¬ 
manded Muir curtly. “ It was the men of that 
order who won this wilderness for such as you.” 

“Yea, yea, of a surety!” granted the Shaker, 
with such complacent good humor that Muir’s 
irritation lessened. “ Yet the whole is inconsistent 
with our institutions. Mayhap thee recalls the 
motto of that society?” 

“ You may have to recall it yourself, if there 
comes an Indian war,” retorted Muir. “ It is 
‘ Omnia reliquit servare rempublicam / and honest 
Latin it is.” 

“ There thee is wrong, good sir,” and Powell 
smiled. “ The infinitive is used where the gerund 
was intended — but, apart from that, the merit of 
Cincinnatus consisted in his resigning the commis¬ 
sion of the Roman Senate and returning to his 
plow; not, as thee would have it, in doing the 
reverse of this act. Friend Muir, this society was 
founded upon capri(?e, not upon utility — but, 
enough, sir! I wished to test thee in politeness, and 
I find that thee has it.” 

Muir laughed up at the jolly Shaker, and forgot 
his ill humor. He knew well that the Democratic 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 191 


party were bitter assailants of the Cincinnati, but 
this rubicund personage was far too good-natured 
and obstinate to be argued over to the other side. 
Of his own accord, Powell presently shifted the 
subject, being keenly interested in the purpose of 
Mr. Noah Webster to detach the United States from 
England in the matter of language. 

“ It is not a bad idea,” agreed Muir, “except 
that he goes a trifle too far, as when he calls the 
usage of ‘y° u was’ a correct —” 

“ Thee is a stiff-necked aristocrat,” and Powell 
sighed whimsically. “ If thee had listened to Mr. 
Webster’s eloquent lectures, thee would know bet¬ 
ter. If thee will look into philology and consider 
the connection between language and knowledge—” 
And in this fashion the worthy but garrulous 
Elias continued without cessation, for he was one 
who loved nothing better than to display his learn¬ 
ing and hear his own tongue clacking. He pos¬ 
sessed a certain amount of knowledge on every 
subject from slavery to Paine’s pamphlets on the 
“ Rights of Man,” and Muir had only to interpose 
some objection in order to keep the Shaker’s tongue 
wagging indefinitely. Like most of the border folk 
Powell treasured as almost a sacred book the ex¬ 
tremely popular “ Modern Chivalry,” and on dis¬ 
covering that Muir knew the Brackenridge family, 


192 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


and the author of that work in particular, he im¬ 
mediately and sincerely placed himself and all that 
he had at the disposal of the Kentuckian* 

The trace was quite deserted. After three hours 
of converse, the two men approached the settle¬ 
ment. This proved to be a group of half a dozen 
log cabins, situated on a ridge west of a wide 
bayou and mud flat that extended in from the 
Wabash. 

66 Where would I be most like to find any per¬ 
sons who are stopping here?” queried Muir, halting 
and roving his keen gaze over the j settlement. 
“There is no tavern?” 

“ None but my own house, friend. I had hoped 
to erect a tavern myself, but the myriads of the 
army worm moved upon us last year and ravaged 
my crops, so the building has been perforce post¬ 
poned. My dwelling is that one to the right, of 
goodly size, and if thee will be my guest-” 

“ I thank you,” broke in Muir. “ But, I pray 
you, ride on alone and let me follow shortly.” 

This curt request met with a nod of assent, and 
Powell rode on. 

Muir waited, wondering at his own indecision. 
As he leaned on his rifle and inspected the little 
settlement, where men worked in the cotton field 
and women clustered to ask Elias Powell the latest 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 193 


news, he suddenly felt a hesitancy to go forward 
and seek Hogan. Oddly enough, this talk with the 
jolly Shaker had put him out of the savage mood 
to do murder which had hitherto driven him so 
hard; instead of putting a bullet into Hogan, much 
the better scheme would be to overpower the man, 
take him to Vincennes, and there act through the 
regular channels of the law, despite Harrison or 
any one else, to obtain satisfaction for the murder 
of Cross. 

However, since he could see no indication of 
Hogan’s presence in the settlement, Muir finally 
shouldered his rifle and directed his course toward 
the abode of Elias Powell. After all, he thought, 
let destiny take its own course! So, rubbing one 
hand ruefully across his worn, stubble-bearded 
features, he strode up to where the jolly Shaker, 
assisted by a woman and two children, was unload¬ 
ing his bags of flour and provisions. Powell greeted 
him with a smile and a wave of the hand, but Muir 
intervened bluntly before the man could speak. 

“ Mr. Powell, have you any guests here? A man 
named Hogan, or a lady, Madame Alice Cross?” 

“ Come thee with me,” responded the Shaker, 
nodding. “ The goodwife tells me that such a lady 
is stopping among us. The man was here also, but 
has gone away.” 


194 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


So, then, all was well! Alice was here! With a 
thrill at his heartstrings, Muir followed Powell into 
the cabin, which consisted of several rooms. Its 
size and furnishings showed that Powell was a man 
of some affluence, as things went on the border at 
that time. 

“ Sit thee, and I will send in the damsel.” 
Powell went to an inner doorway and there paused, 
to fling a significant wink over his shoulder. 66 Also, 
friend Muir, thee will not be disturbed!” 

Chuckling, he disappeared. Muir leaned his 
rifle against the wall — and he looked up to see 
Alice Cross standing in the doorway. 

For a moment he stood as though gazing at some 
vision, then he started forward, his hands out¬ 
stretched, a glad cry of greeting on his lips. He 
was brought to an abrupt and startled halt; in her 
finely chiseled features was no sign of answering 
friendliness, no hint even of recognition; her gold- 
brown eyes held only scorn and passionate con¬ 
tempt. Too late, Muir remembered how John Cross 
had been slain. 

“ Alice! What’s wrong? Have you no word —” 

“ How dare you seek me out, Mr. Muir?” she de¬ 
manded, her voice low, contained, yet vibrant with 
anger. 66 Do not dissemble, sir! You murdered 
my poor brother — I saw your own knife in his 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 195 


throat, and heard how the base act was done. Now 
depart, leave me here in peace, or —” 

White-faced, Muir stared at her, realizing how 
incredibly the lies of Hogan had prevailed, and 
perceiving that she must somehow have come to 
believe the scout’s tale. His brain seethed with 
mingled emotions. 

“ Did Hogan tell you that I had murdered 
John?” he asked slowly. “Did he say that he had 
now come to take you to Louisville? Did he relate 
all manner of evil things about me —” 

“ Yes, you murderer!” she flashed out, her hands 
clenched at her sides. 

“ That is an ill-deserved word, Alice.” With a 
terrible effort, Muir remained calm, kept his head, 
though he was stung to the quick by the look in the 
girl’s eyes. Crafty liar that Hogan was, to have so 
prevailed! Muir gripped the knife at his belt, 
and took a step forward, holding out the blade. 
“We have dwelt together, we have come to know 
and to trust each other, you have nursed me to life 
and strength; yet you would believe these things 
against me! Alice, take this knife and exact ven¬ 
geance on me if you wish —” 

Her hand flashed out and struck the knife to the 
floor. 

“ Your word is nothing to me,” she cried pas- 


196 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


sionately, scorn blazing in her eyes. “ Yes, I liked 
and trusted you, Mr. Muir, and you betrayed that 
trust! Mr. Hogan showed me how the whole deed 
came about — how you murdered poor John, and 
how he had the Indians seize you. I was only sorry 
that your dastardly act caused poor old Tom to be 
taken —” 

“Why, little girl!” In the sadness of Muir’s 
heart, the smile came to his lips; so that before his 
smile she fell silent, wondering at the fleeting 
beauty of it. “ Alice, dear, will you not listen to 
reason? It was Hogan who so basely murdered 
John, and not I. Hogan delivered me to the Indian 
torturers, took my knife and —” 

“ So he warned me you would say,” she ex¬ 
claimed. Her attitude of scornful contempt drove 
a swift, hot fury into Muir’s heart. So bitter be¬ 
came his gray eyes that she recoiled from him in 
fear. 

“Then trust your brother’s murderer, if you 
will!” he cried harshly, stung now past further 
bearing. “ The truth is known to others; you alone 
set that coward’s word against mine — even Gen¬ 
eral Harrison questioned naught of what I told 
him, though he protected the murderer! Wait 
here until Black Sand comes, in a day or two; 
when you have come to see the truth, then you will 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 197 


bitterly repent the words you’ve flung at me today.” 

He turned to the door, but her voice drew him 
back again. 

“ David — wait! Bring me witnesses —” 

“ Witnesses?” Muir’s anger flamed up anew. 
“ Deeming me a liar and a dastard, you ask such 
a thing? No, Alice, I bring you no witnesses! I 
had hoped that some day I might offer you the 
heart and love of an honest man, but you have 
chosen a rogue instead — then cleave to him, and 
let me go my way.” 

He caught up his rifle and burst out of the cabin. 
Even in this moment of departure, he regretted 
those final words, regretted the bitter fury that had 
burned within him. Yet a false pride mastered 
him, drove him forth with raging flame in his heart. 
Outside the cabin, he came upon Elias Powell, and 
halted abruptly. 

“ Where is the man who fetched Madame Cross 
here?” 

Powell stared up, and his rubicund features 
went white when he met the murder look in the face 
of Muir. 

“ Friend, I — I know not. They say that he 
brought her here yesterday — and was hastily 
summoned by a courier to Vincennes —” 

“ Devil take the lot of you!” 


198 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


The Kentuckian strode hastily away, leaving the 
Shaker staring after him apprehensively. 

Not even on that last night in Lexington had 
Muir known such bitterness of soul as now filled 
him, and such consuming lust for the life of Philip 
Hogan. The whole thing now lay clear before him. 
Hogan had come to the Shaker settlement with 
Alice, had there found a messenger from Harrison 
bidding him to some errand, and had left the girl 
in charge of the Shakers until he could return. 
Doubtless his private designs had been interfered 
with by the Governor’s errand, and he dared not 
play fast and loose with Harrison. Knowing the 
man thoroughly, Muir could well imagine how 
Alice had been beguiled by his assumed sincerity, 
his savoir-faire, his aggressive nature. Hogan was 
a murderer, a cunning schemer and worse, but he 
was no physical coward, though Muir had lately 
named him so. 

Now Muir had but one object left him. Whether 
or no he would find Hogan in Vincennes, was very 
uncertain; but he meant to find the man, to pursue 
him unrelentingly, to run him down and achieve a 
settlement for all time. With this one blood-lust 
driving him, Muir headed for Vincennes, knowing 
that sooner or later he would find his prey there, 
and quite careless of Harrison’s veiled threat. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 199 


“ Most like, the Governor will have greater 
affairs in hand than watching me,” thought the Ken¬ 
tuckian as he strode along the rough trace over 
which he had so lately come. “ So Alice is lost — 
I’ve lost her — lost her! She’s safe enough, but 
my own words have closed everything between us. 
I’ve lost her — and I care for nothing but to find 
Hogan and feel my hands on his foul throat.” 

With this mood of utter despair upon him, Muir 
had covered half the distance to Vincennes, long 
past noon, when he came upon a settler who was 
also going into town. The man had a horn hip¬ 
flask, and in his absolute abandon Muir begged a 
drink of the liquor, which the man readily 
bestowed. 

When he had returned the flask, Muir once again 
broke into his Indian jog-trot, the backwoodsman 
staring after him as after a madman. And Muir 
was little better. The fiery liquor had laid hold 
upon his heart and gripped him down; gone was 
every thought save the one consuming flame of 
hatred. 

So at last he came to the northern heights above 
the town, and, with the effect of the whiskey wearing 
off, composed himself into a semblance of calm. 
It was no more than semblance, for his lungs were 
afire and a mad thirst was dragging at his whole 


200 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


body as he strode down to the ferry and was taken 
across the river. He had no money, and offered his 
tomahawk to the ferryman in payment; the man 
cursed, but after one look into Muir’s eyes, said 
no more. 

Thus, with a terrible and unnatural calm set¬ 
tled upon him, David Muir came into the town. Vin¬ 
cennes was filled with soldiers; the Fourth was 
here, with a company of dragoons, while Ken¬ 
tucky riflemen crowded the streets. Muir passed 
the handsome brick house and gardens of Harrison, 
all unwitting, and strode on through the narrow 
streets. In his heart was the single thought of 
Hogan, his eyes searched only for that evilly arro¬ 
gant face among those of the passers-by. 

Muir was by no means a pleasing object, with 
his week-old scrub of beard, his flying black hair, 
his wild eyes and torn buckskin garb, but Vin¬ 
cennes was too well acquainted with this type of 
man to give Muir more than a passing glance. He 
realized that he craved whiskey, and craved it 
badly; all his future was lost to sight, all his am¬ 
bitions were dead. 

At this instant some one stopped him with a shout 
of greeting, and he recognized the man as a former 
neighbor in Kentucky, and now a rifleman of the 
militia. Muir shook hands, found himself sur- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 201 


rounded by a yelping group of excited Kentuck¬ 
ians, and asked for Hogan. He was answered 
with a flask of whiskey, from which he drank 
avidly. 

That drink clouded his brain. Later, as evening 
was darkening all things, Muir was ensconced in a 
tavern window. Around him were gathered a dozen 
Kentuckians, roaring out songs and maudlin jests; 
he dimly heard that there had been a great con¬ 
ference with Tecumthe that morning, at which peace 
belts were passed, but it meant nothing to him. He 
drank whiskey as though it were water — drank 
until even the seasoned militia stared at him, 
aghast. 

How the end came about, he could remember but 
vaguely. Somewhere had been the face of Hogan, 
striking fire into his maddened brain. There was 
fighting, the watch was called, a squad of the 
Fourth came to enforce order; Muir could remem¬ 
ber the uniforms. He recalled no further details 
save that the lust of battle had flowed into his veins, 
and he thrilled as men went down before his fists. 
Another memory, this time of Hogan — his fingers 
on the scout’s neck, hard clenched, while a swirl 
of bodies swept down upon them both. After this, 
oblivion crushed all things from Muir’s brain. 

Men talked long of that fight, though upon the 


202 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


records it was entered as 66 a tavern brawl.” In his 
stark madness, the Kentuckian had nearly throttled 
Captain Hogan, both men being badly mauled and 
bruised beneath the feet of the mob. When order 
was at last restored, Muir, being found to be whole 
of body, was clapped into the Vincennes log-cabin 
jail. 

In this place he lay for three weeks, seeing no 
one but his jailer. 

When this time had passed by, Muir was given 
his rifle and personal effects, with the compliments 
of Governor Harrison, and was ordered to leave 
Vincennes within the hour. 


CHAPTER XII 


fPho flees from God shall feel God’s goad 
Bestirring him upon God’s road . 

It was a worn and haggard man who dropped 
upon a log beside the river and laid his face in his 
hands, great sobs shaking his body. Hair and beard 
were grown past recognition; the gray eyes glowed 
from ghastly features; the lean, hatchet edge of 
the face was gaunt and keen, like that of a very 
old man. 

David Muir had been at this Delaware village 
for two days; he knew only that it was somewhere 
on the White River. A month had passed since his 
eviction from Vincennes. He had spent a fortnight 
in a Miami village, then had fled north and east 
into the wilderness without seeing a white face. 
Because of the leather thong on his wrist, he had 
been received as a friend of Tecumthe; further, 
he found that he was widely known by repute. The 
tale of how Tecumthe had named him the Black 
Bear and had tamed the war chiefs, had spread afar 
through the woods. But now he sat staring down 
into the river, tears on his ragged beard. 

“ Drunk!” he whispered to himself. 64 Drunk! 

203 


204 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

Hogan escaped me because I was drunk. The chance 
was missed. Word of it will get to Louisville 
Clay will know that I am still a fool. And what of 
Alice? Where is she now?” 

There was none to answer. In those three weeks 
that he lay jailed, no one had come to see him, yet 
he could not doubt that Kenton and Black Sand 
had found Alice at the Shaker settlement. The 
very fact of his release from jail proved that 
Hogan had not dared to carry his lies about the 
murder up to Harrison’s ear. All this, however, 
now mattered little; it was himself which now 
concerned Muir’s bitter thoughts. He did not even 
think of Uncle Tom, save in fleeting wonder that 
not even this old and faithful servant had come to 
see him while he lay prisoned. 

Muir was obsessed with the consciousness of his 
own relapse into shame, as he deemed it, and the 
fact that none of his friends had come to him only 
served to drive the iron deeper into his soul, until 
the rust stains lay red about the wound. He had 
flung away his cherished vengeance. He had flung 
away all chance of helping Alice and no further 
thought of her must now linger in his mind. The 
realization stripped his soul bare, and on leaving 
Vincennes he had fled almost at random. 

44 Drunk,” he thought. “ Drunk! But I will 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 205 


drink never more, until I have found Hogan and 
have slain him. After that, let hell open. There’s 
nothing else left.” 

He washed in the river, and returned to the Dela¬ 
ware village. These seven weeks his life had been 
a savage nightmare — from the day he had last 
spoken with Alice Cross. On that day, it seemed, 
all the threads of his old life had snapped away, 
only the one thread of Hogan remaining. So, at 
least, Muir was thinking as he passed among the 
brush lodges to that which had been assigned him. 
More than one Delaware maiden turned to look 
after him, in mingled admiration and awe. He was 
a strong man, strong of thews and of heart, they 
whispered, but it was obvious that the Great Spirit 
had touched his mind. He was not as other men, 
even white men. 

It was the warm afternoon of late summer, but 
Muir saw a dozen warriors grouped about the coun¬ 
cil fire. He paused long enough to note that a 
Miami was seated among them, and then passed on 
to his own lodge. A hunter or runner had come in; 
it was none of his affair, he reflected. In this, 
however, he proved greatly mistaken. Ten minutes 
afterward, a voice brought him to the door of his 
lodge, where he found old White Sky, head chief 
of the village, awaiting him. 


206 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Does my brudder Black Bear know my fader 
Black Sand?” asked the chief bluntly. 

Muir started. “ Yes,” he said curtly. “ What 
of him?” 

“ A Miami tells us dat our fader Black Sand is 
seeking Black Bear. Will my brudder go back to 
de Miami villages?” 

“ No,” answered Muir. “No! Tell him I depart 
at dawn upon another trail.” 

Black Sand! The Kentuckian savagely rammed 
tobacco into his pipe. Why was the man now seek¬ 
ing him? He sat alone in his lodge, and thought 
for a long time. 

Perhaps Black Sand had heard of that wild scene 
in Vincennes. Kenton had no doubt taken Alice 
and Uncle Tom to Louisville ere this. Muir puffed 
away at his pipe, angry and frightened at the same 
time. 

“ Damme if I ever want to see Black Sand 
again!” he muttered. 64 I’ve made a fool of myself 
— for the last time — and I’ll hide my shame in 
the wilderness, as Henry Clay bade me do. Devil 
take the lot of them! I never want to see a settle¬ 
ment again.” 

With this reflection strong upon him, he stole 
from his lodge that same night and hurriedly de¬ 
parted from the Delaware town, and thus began 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 207 


that senseless flight which was to have so strange 
an ending. 

Yet it was not altogether senseless, in that it 
was caused by the very strength of David Muir’s 
own character and human impulse. He had been 
jailed like a common felon, disgraced in all eyes, 
driven in shame from Vincennes. Worse yet, he 
had caused it all himself by flying to drink at an 
inopportune moment. His actions had been in¬ 
sensate. And now his wild impulse to shun all 
persons was very human. 

He was far worse shamed in his own sight than in 
that of other men. And so he fled into the wilder¬ 
ness, as men have fled before and since, whether 
their wilderness has been a thing of fact or of 
metaphor. To such men as David Muir, who have 
largely lived alone in the strength of self-assurance, 
the wilderness is ever a tremendous and cleansing 
force, a reliance, an abiding-place of God. And to 
the best of Muir’s belief, all the threads of his old 
life save one had been snapped away. 

In those terrible seven weeks of hell, the last 
craving for whiskey had been wiped away, tor¬ 
tured out of him, whipped out of him by the 
scourges of circumstance and remorse and self¬ 
accusation. Since leaving Lexington, Muir had 
become a new man in more than one way, as do 


208 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


all who live intensely; since leaving Alice Cross, 
his suffering and torment had deepened, but it was 
remaking something inside of him. Sooner or later 
such a change comes. The past seems irrevocably 
cut away, destiny appears to have altered her 
course into a completely new channel, the old hopes, 
fears and ambitions become atrophied or changed. 
The past seems dead, the present is evanescent. 
Yet the past never dies, for life’s tomorrow is often 
built upon the day before yesterday, not upon 
the today. 

Careless of what happened to him, Muir drove 
straight into the forest. It was nearing the end of 
September, but he had lost count of time. For a 
week he saw no man; then, when he had shot an 
elk, the smoke of his fire brought two Pottawatomie 
hunters to him. These at once recognized the safe- 
conduct of Tecumthe, and all three men camped 
together that night. 

From them Muir learned that Tecumthe was still 
away in the south, visiting the Creek nation; that 
the Prophet’s Town was in charge of Elkswatawa, 
and that for the present there was little talk of war. 
He also learned, however, that Black Sand was 
seeking him through the Indian towns, and he did 
not wait for dawn to take up his aimless journey 
anew. It was not a journey — it was a flight. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 209 


Muir realized this, and vaguely wondered at it, but 
he was savagely compelled to go. Go! That was 
all — go, and lose himself absolutely from every¬ 
thing and every one he had ever known. 

He struck to the east, fell in with a brutish Wea 
hunter, and they traveled in company for three 
days. On the fourth morning the Wea had van¬ 
ished. Muir went on alone and came to a small 
village of Shawanoes, who took him in as a brother. 
Here he remained for six days, until a Shawano 
runner came into the village and Muir caught the 
name of Black Sand uttered at the council fire. 
At this, Muir incontinently caught up his rifle and 
fled away, vowing that he would have no more to 
do with any man, red or white. 

In the furtherance of this vow he headed north, 
avoided all trails of smoke on the sky and of feet 
on the ground, and held to the recesses of the 
forest. Day after day he wandered thus; night 
after night he sat alone, smoking beneath the 
stars, or watching how the frost-whitened leaves 
above him 66 made lightnings in the splendor of the 
moon.” The days were growing cold and frosty 
now, and in these days he learned many things, for 
never before this had he been so utterly alone in 
the wilderness. He joyed in it, joyed in its risks 
and its perils, joyed in the gorgeous splendor of 


210 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


the scarlet autumn woods — and became humble 
and awed before the new thing he found. 

The new thing was reverence. In these desolate 
forests was a soul-mellowing fear and reverence — 
an utterly unreasonable, childish, awe-inspiring 
sense of greatness, of unseen things and forces. 
Muir could not explain it, he could not trace its 
trail, but there it was. In this feeling there lay 
peace; a peace beyond all understanding, which 
slowly worked into his spirit and cleansed him 
insensibly. 

Dimly, in no definite knowledge but in a slowly 
growing sense, he came to realize why he had fled 
thus into the heart of the forest, why some dumb 
instinct had led him to seek this peace and rever¬ 
ence. Was it God? He could not tell; yet, as 
the rust was slowly eaten from his hurt spirit, it 
sometimes seemed to him that he was closely in 
touch with vague forces, with creation, with a 
higher power that was sheltering and guiding him. 
Everything in his past became dim and non- 
essential; he lived only from day to day, desiring 
little, ever fleeing farther on, ever feeling strange 
communion with unseen things, and gradually com¬ 
ing to a saner outlook. So deeply had he been 
hurt that his return to normality was very slow and 
erratic. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 211 


Save for Forts Wayne and Dearborn, far to the 
north and west, he was beyond the uttermost rim 
of settlements, in a savage country where he saw 
no man. Yet he felt no loneliness; the forest was 
pulsing with life. The scream of an eagle, the 
widening wedge of a muskrat-wake in the water, 
the jagged stump of a beaver’s harvesting — these 
were symbols of the nature forces all around him. 
At night he smiled to the scream of panthers and 
the howl of wolves; he smiled often now, for this 
wilderness trail had oddly softened and mellowed 
him. The physical fatigue, the sweat and dirt and 
chances of the trail, were like parts of a healing 
symphony. None the less, he still fled on. 

How this might have ended was problematic, 
for the ending that seemed to come by sheer 
chance was sternly dramatic, at least to Muir. 
One day in running down a wounded deer — since 
he had need to preserve his powder — it happened 
that he circled widely and came back upon the same 
trail he had made that very morning. And at 
sight of it he forgot the quarry, and came to a halt. 

Hereabouts was soft ground, and his trail was 
distinct. But beside it ran another trail — marks 
of split-sole Shawano moccasins, so freshly made 
that water was still oozing into the compact de¬ 
pressions. The toe-prints were very heavy. It was 


212 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


the trail of a weighty man, running on the balls of 
his feet, Indian fashion. But the toed-in tracks did 
not deceive Muir. 

“ Black Sand wore split-sole moccasins!” he 
muttered, aghast. As though in response came the 
thin and querulous voice of the man himself, 
reaching up without exertion into the trees, in the 
doggerel that Black Sand chanted as he ran: 

“ The road is long across the waste 

And they who made the road are sped; 

Yet their strong spirit knew no haste — 

Their children wrought when they lay dead. 

Lord God, give us that we may know 
The surety our fathers felt; 

Faith, that the forest winds will blow 

The dust of towns where we have knelt —” 

Muir turned and fled headlong, in mad panic, 
with a wondering anger dragging at him. Why 
could he not be left to his own miserable fate? 
Why was he thus pursued? Why should this crazed 
Moravian follow him like an avenging conscience? 
Muir desired neither exhortation nor sympathy. 
He wanted only to be alone. 

Where he was Muir knew not, but now he held 
a straight course to the east. For three days he 
traveled hard and furiously, hiding his trail where 
possible, picking dry sticks for his fire, scanning 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 213 

the sky for any wisp of smoke that might spell pur¬ 
suit. 

He saw nothing more to alarm him, but had 
the feeling that his trail was followed. On the 
fourth afternoon he struck into a wide patch of 
low, bushy ground, thick with alder clumps. Sev¬ 
eral miles ahead he had made out a wooded ridge, 
determining to reach that higher ground before 
evening. 

Suddenly, as he passed by a thick growth of 
alders, he caught a gleam of white amid the shoots, 
and came to a halt. The white object was a dozen 
feet from the ground and evidently had been 
carried up by the growth of the alder on which it 
was impaled. Muir looked up at it with a ghastly 
chill striking into him, for the thing was a human 
skull. Like a signpost set there to attract his 
notice, it grinned down horribly. The very oddity 
of the thing fascinated Muir. 

He turned aside and pushed into the springy 
bushes, and so came to the young tree on which the 
skull rested. The tip of the tree had grown out 
through the right eye-socket and had then carried 
the skull up into the air. The Kentuckian set down 
his rifle and examined the lush grass at his feet. 
Yes, there were other bones here, a whole heap 
of them — the skull and vertebrae of a horse and, 


214 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


most significant of all, a human femur with a 
ragged bit of lead imbedded in the bone. 

“ By gad!” exclaimed Muir, poking about in the 
grass. “ This fellow must have been shot in the 
thigh, eh? And he was a white man, no doubt, 
since he was riding a horse — hello!” 

He had turned up a tarnished brass button, cor¬ 
roded to almost nothing, and with it some thin rust 
flakes that crumbled under his moccasin. These 
remains must have lain here for many long years; 
the very bones themselves seemed rotted out. 

Muir could find nothing more, nothing of identi¬ 
fication or in proof of his theory, for the dampness 
had destroyed all else. He was rising to his feet 
when his eye caught a dull gleam amid the grass. 
Stooping, he picked up a small object — then sud¬ 
denly he straightened, staring at it like a man trans¬ 
fixed. He rubbed it feverishly against his hunting 
shirt and held it up again. The object was of a 
metal that does not rust, and now the dullness was 
rubbed into the brighter sheen of rich gold — a 
golden eagle, wings outspread, and in the center 
a marred design where once had been an enameled 
picture. 

It had been the emblem of the Cincinnati. 

The sight of it, the recognition, smote Muir like 
a blow. Small wonder that he glared in rank in- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 215 


credulity and awe at this thing which he had 
plucked from a moldering heap of bones! There 
was no engraving on the gold, and the enamel had 
almost vanished, yet no doubt could exist as to 
the emblem itself. 

How had it come here? The answer was simple 
enough, on the face of things; those bones had 
once been clothed with flesh — a Revolutionary 
officer had ridden to his lonely fate here in the 
far lands. Yet he had been wounded. Why, 
then, had not Indians trailed him and robbed his 
body? What unwritten episode of history lay 
dumbly recorded here? Although the truth might 
contain little to wonder at, Muir marveled at the 
astonishing contradictions of the situation. 

“ But — gad! For me to find it thus! By what 
miracle has it lain here through all the years until 
my hand lifted it? Is it — is it a sign-” 

He shivered; his gray eyes glowed in startled 
surmise from his tangle of beard and hair. He 
looked up at the clustering alder thicket, fear grip¬ 
ping him. The mystery of the wilderness pressed 
close upon him — the mystic, fearful solitudes that 
encompassed him became filled with a real terror. 
What did it mean? Why was it that these bones 
had awaited his coming through the long years? 
He felt as though surrounded, bayed by the leagues 



216 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


of forest, pursued and lashed and driven until here 
he stood at the end of everything- 

Muir wiped the sweat from his brow, and fas¬ 
tened his eyes again on that golden eagle. To 
him, the token stood for very concrete things. It 
represented Saratoga, Valley Forge, Morristown, 
Yorktown; it spoke, mutely eloquent, of the band 
of valiant hearts who had served as officers through 
dreary and dark days, who had seen a new nation 
evolved from their very blood; undoubtedly this 
eagle had been given from the hands of Washington 
himself. To David Muir it was a sacred thing. 
Whose it had been he would never know; and for 
that reason fear gripped him again. Had this 
emblem been sent to him by an unseen Hand? 

It was this thought which so frightened him, 
awed him, struck his imagination into a flame of 
wildfire. For a fleeting instant he saw himself as 
he really was — he saw that his physical sufferings 
had been little things, that his mental torments had 
been great things; he saw that he was a changed 
man in his whole outlook on life, and that he 
himself was not entirely ruler of his own destiny. 
Everything in his past life was having its bearing 
on today, on the future. What manner of sign was 
this token of the Cincinnati, whose very motto was 
a call to forget self and selfish things? Muir 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 217 


shrank from the thought. It seemed to him with 
increasing clarity that this emblem, this little 
golden eagle, had been sent into his hand in order 
to turn him back the way he had come. 

Surely it could not be chance alone. And he 
was a son of the Cincinnati. Not even Henry Clay 
could abolish that fact, though his father’s emblem 
might have been taken from him. What if this gift 
of the wilderness had been sent to him as a symbol, 
a token that the past might yet be redeemed — 
that some task lay ready to his hand, some duty 
awaiting him? 

“ It is hard,” whispered Muir to himself, his 
gaunt face dropping into his hands, the eagle 
pressing cold against his brow. “ It is hard — 
but I will go back, accept the work! Perhaps it’s 
all imagination; I don’t know! I’ve been a coward 
to run like this, a miserable coward! I think that 
God has not sent me this eagle for nothing.” 

For a space he sat silent, and then roused him¬ 
self. 

The afternoon was half gone and the air was 
damp and chill. After some effort, Muir managed 
to get fire from his flint and steel, and built up a 
good lasting blaze. Then, with reverent hands, he 
recovered that grinning skull from the alder shoot, 
and laid it with the bones, heaping earth over all 


218 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


and hewing a rude cross of wood to surmound the 
grave. It was the least he could do. The golden 
eagle he fastened with a bit of gut to his hunting 
shirt. 

Then, conscious of hunger, he built up the fire 
anew and took his rifle. Passing through the 
thicket, he came presently to a small creek near by. 
Within half an hour he had whistled in a turkey. 

Evening was falling as he returned to his camp 
fire, the turkey over his shoulder. At his approach 
a shadow rose on the other side of the fire. Muir 
looked into the pendulous-lipped features of Black 
Sand and smiled. He was not surprised. 

“ Good evening,” he said quietly. “ I’ve 
brought our supper.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


Howsoever hard the trail , 

Evil tidings cannot fail. 

The meeting with Biack Sand was very prosaic. 
Beyond a discussion of the gold eagle and its 
origin, the two men said little until the turkey had 
been cleaned, cooked and made away with. 

As Muir had thought, there was a very good 
explanation for the presence of that eagle here. 
The high ground a few miles farther on had been 
the scene of St. Clair’s disastrous defeat by the 
Indian tribes in 1791. The better part of St. 
Clair’s officers had been Revolutionary veterans; 
this unknown and wounded man had evidently 
broken through the attackers and had ridden until 
he could ride no more, or until his horse failed 
him. In the heat of the battle and massacre he 
had not been pursued, or else a mad burst of speed 
had carried him clear. So Black Sand elucidated 
the mystery. 

Supper over, Muir sat back and stuffed his pipe, 
and lighted it with a red brand from the fire — the 
sweetest of all lights to good tobacco. For a 
space Black Sand stared into the flames, pulling 
219 


220 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


at that lower lip of his; then he sighed, took some 
grains of powder from his pocket, and fell to rub¬ 
bing them between his fingers. His deep-set blue 
eyes rested on the steady regard of Muir. 

“ I see that the hand of Satan has been lifted 
from your soul,” he said abruptly. 

44 It might have been lifted sooner, had you come 
to me when I lay in the Vincennes jail,” retorted 
Muir, with a touch of acerbity. 46 What want you 
with me? What have I to do with you?” 

Black Sand chuckled, though without mirth. 

44 What have I to do with thee?” he said. 
44 Those are sad words, sir, sad words! Now 
hark’ee. Our friend General Simon Kenton went 
to Harrison and bade him release you. They 
passed harsh words. The end of that matter was 
that Kenton was sent packing from Vincennes. I 
did not come myself because I was caring for 
Alice-” 

44 Then you found her?” broke in Muir, though 
he flinched at her name. 

“Aye, and took her home in safety. By the 
testimony of your black slave, as well as from 
that of others, she has learned how John was slain, 
and she would not rest until I came to seek and 
bring you home again. She must see you. But 
the search has been long, friend Muir! The 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 221 


search has been long, and we have other and greater 
work in hand, for now the black sand of destruc¬ 
tion is being sown broadcast — the hearts of men 
are being turned from the ways of peace-” 

The Moravian’s head drooped, and his eyes 
closed wearily. Muir knew that the man was not 
asleep, but he did not intrude upon that silence. 

Who was he to hold his pride against the love of 
a girl because she had misjudged him? Oh, bit¬ 
ter fool that he had been! The golden eagle of 
the Cincinnati had truly been a sign, he felt; his 
old life was calling him back again. He came to 
the resolution very simply and sanely. The forest 
life had purged his spirit, and the spell of Black 
Sand was strongly upon him. He would go back 
— and perhaps the same providence which had 
sent him a sign in the wilderness might still farther 
open up the back trail, the trail which would end 
only with his assoilment by Henry Clay. 

“ The wolves are out!” Suddenly the cry burst 
from Black Sand, as the man’s head came up. 
“ Wrath to the wilderness places, wrath! The 
scalp feather hangs dun in the sunrise, the war 
eagle screams over the river — up flint, out horn! 
Let the black sands of destruction run and leap 
like flame across the dawn-” 

Abruptly the speaker’s head drooped again. 




222 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

Muir watched him with a chill stealing into heart 
and soul, for he thought that probably the man was 
stark mad at times. He could find no coherence 
or meaning in those weirdly babbling words, though 
soon enough he was to remember them keenly. 
None the less, his curiosity was wakened, and he 
stirred the embers with his foot so that they flung 
up a redder glow, and spoke. 

“ Black Sand, what do your words mean?” 

The Moravian looked straightly at him, and in 
the deep eyes Muir read sanity — terrible sanity, 
and grief, and despair. 

“ It means that we have work to do, David Muir! 
Satan is abroad. Whether we shall prevail against 
him I know not, for I have seen a vision of the 
black sands of death. Yet we must try, for the 
work is given to our hand. If we fail, then the 
noblest man on all the frontier will be destroyed.” 

“ Tecumthe?” Muir suddenly understood. 
“ There is no Indian war?” 

“ There is none,” muttered Black Sand. “ The 
warriors have gone home. The Prophet has a few 
hundred men in his town, no more, and he will not 
dig up the hatchet until Tecumthe returns, two 
months hence. There is no war, David Muir, but 
let war come and Tecumthe’s dream and power 
will be both shattered together — burned in the 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 223 


black sand of death and doom — burned, burned.” 

Again Black Sand’s head drooped, and now the 
Kentuckian disturbed him no more. Muir was 
divided between fear and awe; for, as he watched 
that grotesque figure opposite him, he felt com¬ 
prehension stealing into his brain. 

This Moravian’s whole ambition was wrapped 
up in the designs of the Shawano sagamore, Tecum- 
the. His warped missioner’s spirit had found a 
grafting in the strong, simple nobility of the chief. 
Under the tutelage of Black Sand, Tecumthe had 
founded his town, and had banded the tribes in 
a confederacy — in very truth a 64 silver chain of 
peace ” as the ancient Iroquois had called their 
own league. Black Sand’s vision had so prevailed 
that now Tecumthe designed to remove his council 
fire to the wilderness of the Illinois country, 
beyond all contamination, beyond all danger of 
war with the white race. 

What lay further behind all this, Muir could 
only conjecture. He fancied that Black Sand 
cherished the ambition of bringing the red race 
into tune with his own belief in Deity, of stopping 
all bloodshed and liquor trade, and of making 
the Indians anew in the image of their fathers. It 
was feasible. It had been done at the Prophet’s 
Town. Tecumthe’s high nobility and marvelous 


224 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


personality, combined with the Prophet’s mum¬ 
mery, had proven the dream practicable. Yet 
Muir knew that Black Sand was not dreaming of 
empire; his vision was a spiritual thing, a vague 
and shapeless altruism, and it was through Tecum- 
the that a more concrete ambition took form from 
the dream. 

With the dawn light Muir and Black Sand turned 
their faces westward. The sunshine seemed to 
sweep all the vague incoherency out of the 
Moravian’s mind, and Muir managed to learn 
something of the duty and task before them — 
something, but not all, since Black Sand himself 
did not know all. 

66 You’re heading for the Prophet’s Town?” 
asked Muir. “ Why? There’s no danger that 
Elkswatawa will stir up any trouble, after the way 
Tecumthe handled him.” 

“ None,” said Black Sand. “ That trail is 
closed, friend Muir. But the trail to Malden lies 
open, and we must close it.” 

Muir learned that a large force of Pottawatomies 
were on their way from Malden to the Prophet’s 
Town, bearing with them a large quantity of British 
muskets and powder. These warriors must not 
only be restrained from influencing Elkswatawa’s 
braves, but they must be prevented from any vio- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 225 


lence toward the settlements. There would be a 
council of course, and it was to be present at this 
that Black Sand was eager to reach the Wabash. 
Muir, with his forest name and his friendship with 
Tecumthe well known, must assume a share in this 
work, since the redskins would listen to Black Sand 
as inspired but to Muir as a man of sense and 
physical strength. At the beginning of October 
Harrison had sent militia up the Wabash to build 
a fort, and Black Sand knew not what might have 
happened in the intervening time. 

Was this, then, his mission, thought Muir — 
was it to stand as a bulwark of peace in the coun¬ 
cils of the redskins that he had been summoned 
back? It scarcely seemed definite enough, direct 
enough, yet he accepted it gladly. Fastened to 
his shirt was the unmarked golden eagle, and Muir 
felt pride in the wearing of it. Some day he might 
reclaim his own emblem, but at present he cared 
little about Henry Clay; he was a son of the Cin¬ 
cinnati, a fact which nothing could remove. 

He had cherished the notion of passing some 
supreme test, of doing some great deed which 
would enable him to go to Clay and demand his 
own; but this was so no longer. That way led 
romance and the unreality of dreams. Muir was 
now too close to the realities of life not to know that 


226 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Clay had demanded the accolade of the spirit, not 
of the body; that manliness is of the heart, not of 
the high deed. The Volsung must sweat over the 
forging of his blade ere he can wield it as a hero. 

From the vicinity of St. Clair’s disaster to the In¬ 
dian town on the Wabash was only a bird’s flight of 
a hundred miles, but it was virgin forest, and much 
of it was swamp or marsh. The two companions 
could cover little more than twenty miles a day of 
this air line, for Black Sand was very weary after 
his long pursuit of Muir. On the second day, the 
Kentuckian borrowed the older man’s razor and 
used it; he inspected his clean-shaven features in 
the mirror of a forest pool, and wondered at 
them. He had thought himself an old man, yet his 
face seemed younger than ever, firm of line and 
contour, while from beneath the harsh brows 
leaped out the gray eyes with all their old startling 
aggression. He was not much changed externally, 
but Muir knew that the wilderness had touched his 
spirit and had left him the better for the contact. 

So the two men traveled on together, thankful 
that winter was still keeping its chill hand from 
the land. Black Sand had calculated that their 
journey would require all of five days, but they 
picked up a little on this time. After four days of 
hard woods running they crossed a stream which 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 227 


the Moravian identified as one only fifteen miles 
from the Prophet’s Town. Muir was all for push¬ 
ing on that night and finishing the journey, but to 
this Black Sand uttered a flat and determined nega¬ 
tive. When pressed for a reason, he fell silent and 
began to gather wood for a fire, so Muir gave in 
and helped make camp for the fourth and last time. 
Yet, when they had supped, Black Sand gave an 
indication of his thought. 

“ Have you observed, friend Muir,” he said 
abruptly, “ that in these four days past we have 
not seen a single red man?” 

Muir nodded frowningly. “ You think there is 
war? Perhaps the hunters have been gathered in 
to await action by this coming council.” 

Black Sand pulled gloomily at his pendulous 

up. 

“ We shall know in the morning,” he muttered, 
staring into the crackling fire. 46 1 have seen a 
vision of the black sand of death. There shall be 
feathers in touch-holes, ramrods in barrels, flints 
in the air! Let the guns be loaded — let the guns 
be loaded-” 

He fell silent, and Muir did not disturb his 
visionary mood; yet that mood held more of fact 
than fancy. 

With the next morning they were off early, and 



228 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


an hour after sunrise came to a rippling ridge of 
land. Upon reaching the crest, where they halted 
for a view of the country around, Black Sand 
suddenly flung out his arm and his voice leaped 
forth. 

“ Look! The smoke!” 

To the south was a thin smoke rising puff on 
puff. Muir took it for an Indian smoke talk, but 
Black Sand shook his head and produced his fire- 
bag. 

“ No. It is a signal from my daughter Alice 
— a signal of news, a summons calling me in all 
haste. Let us make response, quickly!” 

Alice! Muir said nothing, but his heart beat 
faster. Was she actually in the forest, trying to 
reach them with signals? Then Kenton and Tom 
must be with her; but what did it mean — was 
there an Indian war, then? 

They worked together with flint and steel, and 
when Black Sand had sent up an airy thread of 
smoke in reply, they stamped out the fire and set 
off toward the south, where by this time the first 
signal had died away. Now the Moravian was 
seized by a furious energy, which was barely 
equalled by the eagerness in Muir’s heart. He 
wanted to see Alice Cross; he wanted this more than 
anything else, as he suddenly realized. He thrilled 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 229 


to the feel of that bit of gold on his breast. It 
was a visible and outward sign of an inward grace 
that had touched his spirit. The gulf between him¬ 
self and Alice had closed, forgotten; it was swept 
away and mattered not at all. 

Now Muir’s eyes were opened, and he perceived 
how wrong he had been — the threads of his past 
were by no means snapped away. Some of them 
had worn out. The sordid, baser threads had 
frictioned into nothing, but there remained the fine 
silvern threads of higher things strung across his 
soul, vibrating to the stirrings of the spirit- 

A huge shape leaped out upon them, gripped 
Muir, hugged him with wild cries of incoherent 
gladness. The Kentuckian held the scarred, griz¬ 
zled head of Tom against his breast and felt hot 
tears drip on his hands; but he looked over the 
negro’s bowed head to where Alice Cross stood, 
just beyond. 

Like a flame of loveliness she seemed, clad now 
in buckskin as first he had beheld her. Black Sand 
was speaking to her, but the girl was heedless; her 
gaze was fastened upon that of Muir. He, sensing 
the appeal of her look, gently loosened the hold of 
Tom and stepped forward. 

“ Alice, I crave your pardon for the words I 
used at our last meeting-—” 




230 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“Oh, David!” She sprang to him, hands out¬ 
stretched. “ I am so sorry!” 

In this moment, hands clasped hard, they looked 
into each other’s eyes. Her face was lifted, its 
delicate lines so beautiful that Muir felt a tug of 
pain at his heart; her beauty seemed scarcely 
human. It drove the words from him; he felt 
stunned by the very loveliness of her, and was 
silent. Yet, as he smiled, his face was transfigured, 
and he bent to her hands and kissed them. 

“ Alice!” 

The querulous voice of Black Sand broke in 
upon them. Muir turned, found Tom at his side, 
and smiled again at the slave who loved him so 
truly. 

“ All right again, Tom?” 

The negro nodded in silence and caught Muir’s 
hand. Black Sand, staring at the girl, now spoke 
rapidly and urgently. 

“Daughter, what means this signal? Explain, 
explain! Where is Kenton?” 

“ Oh — you must hasten!” she burst out impetu¬ 
ously. “ The chief Stone Eater came for you with 
news three days ago-” 

“ Stone Eater? Tecumthe’s friend?” 

“ Yes. Mr. Kenton was hurt, having crushed his 
leg beneath a log, but he went on to the Prophet’s 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 231 


Town to do what he could — the council is set for 
tonight-” 

“ Quiet, girl!” snapped Black Sand impatiently, 
seeing that she was too excited for calm speech. 
“ Chief Stone Eater is of the peace party. Now 
tell at length what has happened, and God send that 
no scalps have yet been taken!” 

The girl restrained herself and spoke more col¬ 
lectedly, yet with a flash in her eye and a heaving 
bosom that belied her calmness. 

“ Governor Harrison and his army have built a 
fort between here and Vincennes. They are march¬ 
ing on the Prophet’s Town, nine hundred of them 
— by this time they must have arrived. Stone 
Eater said that no scalps had been taken, and that 
the chiefs would parley with Harrison and keep 
the peace until the council-” 

“ What day is this?” shot out Black Sand. 

“ The sixth of November. The Miamis and 
Delawares have deserted the Prophet-” 

“ Why did Harrison march? Has there been 
fighting or bloodshed?” 

“ No. Nobody knows why. The Prophet has 
had no time to call in the tribes, and Harrison has 
sent word that he came in peace, not in war. 
Tecumthe is away, and Stone Eater is most anxious 
for your presence at tonight’s council, hoping that 





232 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


you can make the chiefs keep peace at any cost—” 

44 Be quiet — let me think!” cried Black Sand 
in an agonized voice, his features working terribly. 

Muir stood silent, stricken by these tidings. So 
Harrison had struck! He could understand well 
enough what lay in the background. Harrison was 
set on destroying the Prophet’s Town at all costs, 
by peace or by war. Alice’s tale showed how 
desperately the Indians were striving to maintain 
peace until the return of Tecumthe. There was 
good reason for this. If the Delawares and Miamis 
had deserted the Prophet, then Elkswatawa could 
have only a few warriors around him, and the Pot- 
tawatomies bearing the British muskets probably 
formed his main reliance. His efforts to prevent 
war would be desperate; and Harrison’s efforts 
would be as desperate in the attempt to force hos¬ 
tilities. The army was in the Indian lands without 
excuse, in time of peace; unless he were attacked, 
Harrison would have to face a heavy reckoning. 
He must force that attack, since he had caught the 
Indians by surprise, with not a tithe of their force 
at hand. 

44 To the Prophet’s Town at once!” broke out 
Black Sand swiftly. 44 Friend Muir, you come with 
me, for I must lean heavily upon you. Alice, 
return with this negro to our clearing-” 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 233 


“Hold on!” Muir firmly advanced his will 
against that of Black Sand. 66 If war is at hand, 
your unprotected settlement is no place for a 
woman. Even if we manage to maintain peace, 
Harrison is determined to destroy the Prophet’s 
Town, and this means that Tecumthe will raise the 
tribes in a red flame of war.” 

44 Well?” questioned Black Sand, nodding 
gloomy assent. 64 What is in your mind?” 

44 This: Let Tom take Alice south to the Wabash, 
where they can get a canoe and go on. Instead of 
halting at Vincennes, let them continue to the Ohio 
while they may still travel in peace. Once at the 
Ohio, they will have no trouble in reaching Louis¬ 
ville, where Alice will find shelter with Mr. 
Berthoud. You can trust Tom — he is a better 
woodsman than I, Alice is absolutely safe with 
him, and-” 

Muir turned, snatching from his wrist the safe- 
conduct of Tecumthe. 

44 Tom, bind this on your arm; it’s Tecumthe’s 
token, and any Indians you meet will let you pass 
freely. You remember Mr. Berthoud? Good! 
Guard Madame Alice with your life.” 

Black Sand nodded, and held out his hand to 
Alice. 

44 A good plan. Daughter, may God bless you 



234 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


— and you also, black man of the faithful heart! 
Now haste, for you must strike the Wabash to the 
south, and paddle swiftly.” 

Muir bowed again over the girl’s hand. When 
he straightened up, he found tears in her eyes. 

44 Good-by, Alice,” he said quietly. 46 We’ll 
meet at Louisville, if God is good.” 

She turned away, not answering his words. Tom 
gripped Muir’s hand again. 

46 Marse Dave, you-all can trust ol’ Tom. Good- 
by, Marse. We’ll see you-all at Louisville — Lawd 
bless yo’, suh!” 

44 Go,” said Black Sand, with an imperative 
gesture. 44 And God go with you!” 

A moment later Muir and Black Sand stood 
together, alone. The Moravian put out his hand 
to that of Muir, with a crushing grip. 

44 The word of God is in my heart that we four 
shall never meet again, for I think that you and I 
go to our deaths. Yet I believe the girl is safe.” 

Muir nodded. 44 They’ll let us in to the coun¬ 
cil?” 

44 You are known as Tecumthe’s friend, and 
you are with me. There is a seat for Black Sand 
at any council fire. Now — come!” 


CHAPTER XIV 


Powder and Bullet and Flint and Fire — 

Who shall naysay ye from HelVs desire? 

Still nearly fifteen miles from the Prophet’s 
Town, Black Sand now stayed for naught but drove 
straight ahead. Most of the way lay through 
swamps and dried muck, since in the spring there 
had been heavy floods, and by noon they had 
scarcely covered five miles. 

The morasses were thickly grown with alders 
and hazel, which must be fought through at a 
maddening cost of delay. Once the Moravian 
floundered into a quicksand, and not until half an 
hour had passed did Muir get him extricated. 
When at length they sighted long wisps of trailing 
smoke against the sky. Black Sand drew a deep 
breath of relief. 

“ We are not too late!” 

“ How so? Perhaps that is the town now bum- 

•_ 99 

mg. 

“ Nay! Harrison set out to destroy the town, 
but if that were accomplished we should now see 
no smoke at all, or else the flames of it. Yonder 
are the camp fires of the army.” 

235 


236 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


They plunged anew into the thickets. It was 
bitterly cold, they were both of them adrip with 
muck and mire, and Muir was half frozen despite 
the hard work. As the afternoon wore on, they 
came to another open space and a cry broke from 
Muir; the sky ahead was filled with a great cloud 
of smoke. 

“ The attack! The town’s fired-” 

“ Nay, friend Muir! There would be denser 
smoke, flames, and the roll of rifles. Those are 
but the camp fires built up to prepare the evening 
meal. Hasten!” 

Desperate haste spurred them on, yet it was 
only an hour before sundown when they stumbled 
out on the low eastern bank of the Wabash. On 
the higher ground, opposite them, lay the Prophet’s 
Town. Canoes were crowded along the shore, and 
Muir’s shout brought an Indian from the trees, who 
waved his hand and came over in a canoe. There 
was a swift interchange of words between Black 
Sand and the Indian, who then sent up a long, 
quavering yell and motioned them into the canoe. 
Muir stepped in, followed by the Moravian, and 
they sped across the river. 

As they neared the opposite bank, the fringe of 
trees became alive with dark shapes. Foremost 
was that of Kenton, who leaned heavily upon a 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 237 


rifle; with him were three chiefs who Muir recog¬ 
nized as Elkswatawa, Winnemac and White Loon. 
Muir stepped ashore to grip Kenton’s hand. 

66 How goes everything, Sime?” 

“ Badly, Dave, badly.” 

Black Sand hurried to the chiefs and began an 
eager exchange of words, while curious warriors 
crowded around. The Moravian turned with a 
swift word to Kenton. 

“ Get Muir away. Bring him to the council 
later.” 

The frontiersman nodded and urged Muir away 
The crowd moved upward toward the bluff, and 
Muir found more than one warrior of his acquaint¬ 
ance nodding to him in surly greeting. Then, as 
they broke from the shore trees and ascended the 
rising ground behind, Muir was astounded by the 
mass of men that broke on his sight. 

Here there were hundreds of Indians, all war¬ 
riors and all in war paint, yet he noted that not 
half of them bore guns. No Delawares or Miamis 
were in evidence, but the Kentuckian made out 
Shawanoes, Ottawas, Chippewas, Pottawatomies, 
Kickapoos and Wyandots, with a few Sacs and 
Winnebagoes. Over them all rested an ominous 
silence, and as the two white men came to the 
higher ground, the Indians turned with one accord 


238 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


to face the west. Muir felt Kenton’s fingers grip 
his arm and he stopped short. There was no need 
for words. 

Perhaps a mile distant, along a line of trees that 
told of a creek, was a long array of fires — Har¬ 
rison’s army, in camp. Between, lay the corn¬ 
fields of the Indians and a wide strip of swamp¬ 
land. Muir could catch a glitter of bayonets and 
a gleam of white tents in the far camp. 

“ Come along to my lodge,” said Kenton quietly. 
“ You ain’t fur from perishin’ from cold, I 
reckon.” 

This was true enough, and Muir followed his 
friend into the town of the Prophet. This con¬ 
tained nearly threescore large and well built cabins 
surrounding a council house of imposing size; 
adjoining, but on lower ground, were twice as many 
cabins and brush huts, with some skin lodges. 
Kenton led the Kentuckian to a cabin not far from 
the long-house, seated him by the fire, and laid out 
a fresh suit and moccasins of buckskin. 

“ You’re a sight, Dave, and lookin’ kind o’ 
peaked,” said Kenton. 66 1 done twisted my leg 
right smart — say, let’s have some meat.” 

He left the hut. Muir had scarcely changed 
from his stiff, mud-caked garb when Kenton re¬ 
turned with a thick slice of venison and a gourd of 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 239 


water. While the Kentuckian was eating, the hun¬ 
ter hastily related the general aspect of affairs. 

Harrison, with close to nine hundred men, had 
that morning reached the Prophet’s Town and had 
marched to within fifty yards of the town itself. 
There the chiefs had met and halted him, arranging 
to hold a council on the following day with him, 
and giving him the camp ground beside a small 
creek a mile to the west. Muir, to his satisfaction, 
found that no hostilities had taken place. The 
Prophet and his chiefs, although pushed to a sullen 
desperation, had obeyed the mandate of Tecumthe 
and refrained from violence. Moreover, there 
were a scant six hundred warriors in the town. 

44 Thar’s the council,” announced Kenton, as the 
booming tones of a war drum rose in hollow thun¬ 
der. 64 Dave, here’s whar we see somethin’ great! 
Say — that cuss Hogan is here.” 

Muir stiffened suddenly. 44 Where?” 

44 Now, you go easy,” admonished Kenton, his 
steely eyes troubled. 44 Hogan come with a mes¬ 
sage from Harrison. You ain’t goin’ to tech him.” 

44 Sime, I’m going to kill him,” said Muir. 

Kenton gripped him by the arms in an outburst 
of passionate earnestness. 

44 Dave, are you a plumb fool? Thar’s three 
hundred British guns in the long-house. The 


240 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Prophet was goin’ to sarve ’em out last night, but 
I got him to wait on this council. If you tech 
Hogan, the Injuns’ll know that Harrison will burn 
’em out in revenge. Hogan’s Injun friends will 
scalp us sartin; the war party and the peace party 
will join to attack Harrison fust, knowin’ it’s the 
only thing left to do if his messenger gits killed. 
Man, you jest cant tech him here! It’s jest what 
Harrison wants, dum him! Ain’t you got no sense 
at all?” 

Muir’s lips set, for a moment, then he nodded. 
“ I’ll not touch him, Sime,” he said bitterly. 
“ Come along.” 

They left the cabin together and found a huge 
crowd of silent, waiting warriors surrounding the 
council house. Striding through them at Kenton’s 
side, Muir found the door guarded by a stalwart 
Shawano, who grunted at sight of them and ushered 
them inside. Evening was now at hand, and little 
did Muir dream what this night was to bring, not 
only to him but to all the northern wilderness. 

So smoky was the interior of the council house 
that for a little Muir could discern nothing. He 
followed Kenton blindly and sat down by his 
friend. Presently, in the dull glow of the central 
fire, he began to make out the details of this assem¬ 
blage. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 241 


Around the walls were seated some fifty chief¬ 
tains, as this was a council of chiefs alone. Muir 
saw the squat figure of Black Sand to one side. At 
one end of the council sat the Prophet, divested of 
his war paint and nearly naked, preparing a large 
calumet pipe. Beside each chief was a list-wrapped 
package, and a great heap of them was piled behind 
Elkswatawa. Muir perceived that these were more 
British muskets, identical with those he had seen 
at that other council. 

Slowly the Prophet raised and lighted his calu¬ 
met, then drew the four ceremonial puffs. In 
silence and in the same grave dignity the calumet 
was passed from hand to hand, Kenton and Muir 
being included in the courtesy. When the pipe at 
length returned to the Prophet, all eyes went to that 
chief; but he sat like a graven image, motionless, 
until the silence became intolerable. Then, dignity 
satisfied and the stage set, he rose and began to 
speak slowly in very good English. 

“ My brothers are of many tongues, but all speak 
English. My brothers, a swarm of locusts threat¬ 
ens to eat up our lodges and cornfields and young 
men. We are not many. We have had no time to 
call for our brothers from the forest. Our hearts 
have been set upon the peace trail, our war paint 
is not prepared, and we have kept our oaths. Our 


242 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


brothers the Saganosh, whose fort is at Malden, 
have sent us guns and powder. My brothers, Elks- 
watawa would like to hear your thoughts.” 

He ceased. There was a general turning of 
heads, and Muir looked with the others at an old, 
wrinkled but still stalwart chief — Stone Eater, 
famed as a counselor and wise man. Stone Eater 
took his own time to reply, but presently rose and 
delivered a stately example of pure Indian oratory. 
He spoke in his own tongue, but Muir understood 
from Kenton’s whisper that the address was a digni¬ 
fied plea for peace. 

Stone Eater advised the chiefs very strongly 
to give way before Harrison in everything, even to 
yielding up the town; to throw the burden of blame 
on the whites; to await the return of Tecumthe and 
then to gather the tribes and open a relentless war. 
It was sound advice and pleasant to many of the 
hearers, although the Prophet’s one eye gleamed 
red with bitterness. 

Next spoke Winnemac in broken English, mak¬ 
ing a short, blunt demand for an immediate attack 
on Harrison’s camp. One by one the principal 
chiefs followed, yet for the most part they inclined 
to the side of peace. Came the turn of Kenton, 
but he motioned Muir to rise in his place. Muir 
came erect, his face stern; for a space he stood 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 243 


silent, looking from face to face, and gained the 
greater respect thereby. When he spoke, the 
silence was tense. 

“ My brothers, I am white of heart, but you know 
that Tecumthe is my friend and brother. I have 
heard General Harrison promise Tecumthe that the 
Long Knives would not be the first to lift the 
hatchet. I know that the Long Knives hope to make 
you begin the war. My brothers, you must not 
do this, which is evil counsel. Detain Harrison 
until you have sent away your old men, your 
squaws, your children. Then give him this town 
and await the return of Tecumthe, so that General 
Harrison will get great blame for his deeds. I 
have said.” 

He could determine no effect from his words, 
save a black scowl from Winnemac. The Prophet 
now spoke without rising. 

66 My brother Black Bear speaks with a single 
tongue, but we know that his heart is white, as he 
told us. My brothers, we would like to hear the 
words of our father Black Sand, whose skin is 
white, but whose heart is red. Our father has told 
us that the Great Spirit whispers in his ear. We 
should like to hear the words of the Great Spirit, 
who also whispers in the ear of Elkswatawa. We 
should like to know what the Great Spirit has whis- 


244 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


pered to our father Black Sand, about loading these 
guns.” 

The words were tipped with calculated malice. 
Muir realized suddenly that the whole issue now 
lay between Black Sand and Elkswatawa, who was 
undoubtedly jealous of the Moravian’s influence 
and was fearful for his own position of wizard. 

There was a quick stir of interest, but Black Sand 
seemed not to heed it. He sat staring at the fire, 
his long fingers playing ceaselessly with powder 
grains, his lower lip pendulous; but at last he came 
to his feet and his voice rang out in the Shawano 
tongue. Muir could understand nothing, but he 
could see from the faces around him that the chiefs 
were being powerfully moved by the appeal. Ken¬ 
ton nudged his arm, motioning toward Elkswatawa. 
Glancing at this chief, Muir perceived that under¬ 
neath the surface the Prophet was in a mad fury of 
rage; even in the half obscurity his hideous features 
shone with a devil’s light. At this instant Black 
Sand broke into English. 

“ My brothers, you who take up the hatchet shall 
perish by the hatchet! This is the word of the 
Great Spirit to Black Sand. If you load these guns, 
you shall be wiped away and your very names 
shall perish utterly. Now bring in the messenger 
from the Long Knives and let him speak to us. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 245 


Remember the word of the Great Spirit! Black 
Sand has spoken.” 

A crafty move, this, since it cut off all rebuttal, 
and the angry Prophet motioned with his hand. A 
moment later the tall, handsome figure of Hogan 
entered and stood behind Kenton, to one side of 
Muir, facing Black Sand. The scout, who was in 
forest garb, was slow to make out faces, and was 
not in a position to recognize Muir. 

“ Speak!” commanded the Prophet briefly. 

“ I have a message from General Harrison,” 
said Hogan. His voice rang firm, but his closely 
set eyes shifted from Black Sand to the Prophet and 
back again. “ The Long Knives come in peace 
and will hold a council with you tomorrow. They 
wish to destroy this town, but they will pay you 
for what they destroy. They wish you no harm. 
The great father at Washington loves his red chil¬ 
dren. General Harrison has spoken.” 

This message, ostensibly pacific, not only sur¬ 
prised the council but perplexed and irritated them 
strangely. Hogan had deliberately violated all 
Indian etiquette in thus making his message bald 
and curt, as though in contempt and scorn of his 
auditors. A thinly veiled sneer sat on the lips of 
the Prophet. Then the Ottawa chief, White Loon, 
leaped passionately to his feet. 


246 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ We have heard the words of our father Harri¬ 
son,” he cried out. 66 Hogan is our brother. His 
heart is good. He speaks with a single tongue. He 
has told us what the Long Knives gave him to say. 
Now let him speak in council with us! Let him 
tell his red brothers whether the Long Knives speak 
with a double tongue!” 

A grunt of assent arose. Muir, not looking up, 
heard the smooth voice of Hogan begin a speech 
which drove madness into more than one listener. 

“ My brothers, it makes me very happy to hear 
such words. You know me. You ask me to tell 
you what is in the hearts of the Long Knives. I 
will tell you, my brothers. Listen! 

“ You have been asked to a council tomorrow, 
but you will not be there, my brothers. You will be 
dead and scattered. At dawn the Long Knives 
mean to sweep down upon you, catch you un¬ 
guarded, destroy your town, and kill all whom they 
find here. Go and look at their camp, and you 
will see that they sleep with their guns ready, and 
that Kentucky riflemen are waiting at the edge of 
the swamp to steal around and cut off your escape. 
My brothers, my heart is sad because of this plan. 
I have spoken.” 

In this moment, the chiefs had need of all their 
wonted stoicism. Hogan’s words evoked one low, 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 247 


terrible snarl of fury from the whole circle — 
never had Muir heard such a sound, and it lingered 
in his memory long afterward. More than one 
knife flamed in the firelight. Only with an effort 
did Muir repress his mad impulse to leap up and 
give Hogan the lie direct. But he caught sight 
of Black Sand, and the man’s face gave him pause. 
Through that terrible sound of repressed fury 
and anguish there pierced the thin voice of the 
Moravian. 

“ My brothers, Hogan lies!” 

Muir glanced up. He saw the scout eying 
Black Sand with an assumed sneer through which 
showed a very real alarm. Black Sand came to his 
feet and continued. 

44 My brothers, this man lies. He speaks with 
a double tongue, as he has been bidden to speak. 
This is a plot to make you take up the hatchet 
— did not Black Sand warn you of such a thing? 
Has not Black Bear warned you? Now listen, my 
brothers! Hogan, do you swear that your words 
are true, before the Great Spirit?” 

Hogan’s face went livid, and the man bit at his 
lip until a drop of blood came out. But Hogan, 
knowing that all depended on him, made quick 
assent. 

44 Yes. I swear.” 


248 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Where are your proofs?” demanded Black 
Sand, obviously taken aback by this oath. 

“ Proofs?” Hogan flung up his head suddenly. 
“ If my brothers need proof, let them go and look 
at the camp of the Long Knives. Let Black Sand 
go, if he is not afraid that the village dogs will bark 
at his shadow. Let him go with me and see how 
the Long Knives sleep on their arms, let him see 
how the riflemen wait for the dawn to attack you!” 

Before Black Sand could reply, the old chief 
Stone Eater rose and looked at Hogan. In his 
hand the chieftain held his bared knife. 

“ My brothers,” he cried out, his aged voice 
thrilling passionately, “ we have heard the words 
of Captain Hogan. Can my brothers trust this 
Long Knife who has given whiskey to our young 
men? Can a white man who deals in firewater 
speak to us with a single tongue? Let my father 
Black Sand go out with this Long Knife and see 
if he speaks truth; let my father Black Sand come 
back and tell us of what he sees, for we can trust 
his words!” 

There was an outburst of assenting grunts from 
the whole circle. Muir, looking up, saw a lurid 
flame in the eyes of Hogan. Not knowing what 
he feared from the man, Muir moved to gain his 
feet — but Kenton’s hand clamped down on his 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 249 


arm and held him quiet. In after days, Kenton 
bitterly regretted that act. 

“ Black Sand will do this,” said the Moravian 
quietly. “ Let my brothers wait here until I 
return. Let them also remember the words I have 
spoken, whispered to me by the Great Spirit.” 

He rose, stepped around the fire, crossed to the 
door, and was gone. Hogan followed in silence, 
and departed. After a moment the Prophet came 
to his feet, his naked brown body crimsoned by 
the fire glow. He spoke calmly, in English. 

“ My brothers, while our father Black Sand is 
away I will speak with the Great Spirit. Perhaps 
the Great Spirit will whisper to Elkswatawa in this 
matter.” 

He, too, strode to the door and vanished. Pres¬ 
ently an Ottawa chief arose and began to speak 
in his own tongue, but Muir caught the soft voice 
of Kenton at his ear. 

“ Dave! This ain’t right, to my notion. Git 
out.” 

They drew back together, rose and gained the 
door. Only when they emerged did Muir realize 
that they had been in the council house for three 
hours or more. The night was very cold, and the 
sky had clouded over. 

“ Rain or snow,” commented Kenton, as they 


250 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


stood outside the door. 46 Dave, I wonder what 
that thar cuss had in his head?” 

“ He had murder in his eyes,” said Muir grimly. 
“ And I believe he deliberately drew Black Sand 
on this errand. Why? Let’s follow them.” 

Kenton was silent for an instant. 

“ Nope, not me,” he said slowly. 66 1 ain’t right 
good fer walkin’, and them pesky sojers is liable 
to fire if a stick cracks. Dave, if the A’mighty is 
payin’ any heed to this here frontier-” 

He broke short off; Muir caught his arm, 
startled. 

The Prophet’s Town was ringed with fires, and 
from the camp of Harrison showed the red gleam 
of other fires. In between were cornfields and a 
patch of swamp. From this point and not far from 
the town itself, suddenly quavered up the voice of 
Black Sand. It lifted in the singsong, monotonous 
doggerel to which the roving Moravian was so 
addicted. As the words pierced clearly across the 
frosty night, the doorways of the cabins and lodges 
became crowded with listening warriors. Muir 
caught the song distinctly, and for some reason it 
brought a swift, cold fear into his heart. 

“ Up flint and out horn — 

Dun hangs the scalp feather! 

Wrath comes on the morn 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 251 


And smoke of the burning; 

Out bullet and rod — 

Black Sand is the omen, 

The anger of God 

Shall waken ye, foemen! 

Awake ye and wake 

To the war-eagle’s screaming! 

God shall shatter and break 
The dream of your dreaming; 

Up flint and out horn — 

Your greatness is broken! 

Death rides on the morn 

And Black Sand has spok-” 

The thing ended abruptly. A ghastly, pregnant 
silence settled on the night. 

“ Good God!” gasped Kenton suddenly. 66 Dave, 
git out thar and see what that means! Here, you 
red varmints —” He turned to the nearest group 
of warriors and shot a swift order at them. 

Muir leaped away, the Indians at his heels. An 
uncanny feeling seized him, a feeling that Black 
Sand’s weird song had not come to any good end; 
and as he recalled the flame in Hogan’s eyes, he 
cursed himself for not having gone with the two 
men. 

Something of that same feeling must have 
reached the Indians, for behind Muir the whole 
town was leaping into a babel of tongues. More 


252 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


warriors leaped after the Kentuckian, men sprang 
out of the darkness with shouted directions, and 
as Muir ran across the first cornfields he felt a cold 
drop of rain on his cheek. But he was not think¬ 
ing of these things; as he went, he shouted aloud, 
and no one made answer to him. 

At the edge of the swamp they found Black Sand. 
He was quite dead, and there were two great knife 
wounds in his back. 


CHAPTER XV 


If the Wolf be brave and his heart be stout , 

When the lips draw back from his fangs — look out! 

Muir stood trembling from head to foot. Such 
awful rage was upon him that it robbed him of 
strength, shook him helpless in its grip. He could 
not speak or move, but as he stood over the body 
of Black Sand while the Indians surged around 
with shrill cries, his soul was wrenched asunder by 
the bitter storm of grief and hatred. 

Hogan had undoubtedly reached the American 
lines in safety before this. Muir stared toward 
those fires, and with a spasm of self-control that 
was even more terrible than his anger, got himself 
in hand. 

“ I must follow him,” he muttered aloud. 
“ Kenton and I — together. He cannot escape us 
now. Aye, we’ll reach him in the presence of Har¬ 
rison himself! It’ll be execution, not murder.” 

The warriors gently shoved him aside, for they 
respected his agony of soul, and with low wails 
caught up the body of Black Sand. Muir turned 
and strode back toward the town. His seething 
spirit had now settled into a grim and merciless 
253 


254 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


resolve. The cup of Hogan was full. The mur¬ 
derer was less deserving of pity than any gaunt 
timber wolf. Picturing how Black Sand had been 
decoyed and knifed to death, in the very midst of 
his weird song, Muir gripped his fingers into his 
palms and madness clutched at him anew. It was 
prearranged by Hogan, of course. The scout knew 
that this murder would prove his words to the 
Indian chiefs, would provoke the war which it was 
his errand to bring on. But again Muir controlled 
himself, desperately. 

When he came to the town and found Kenton 
standing in the drizzle of rain awaiting him, Muir 
spoke with a cold tensity of voice. 

“ Black Sand was knifed in the back by Hogan. 
Murdered. Where’s my rifle?” 

Kenton’s iron fingers clasped his shoulder. 

“ Man — d’you mean it?” gasped the frontiers¬ 
man. 

“Let me go,” snarled Muir, and tried to tear 
free. But he could not. Kenton’s grip held him 
like a vise, and suddenly he perceived the reason. 

Within arm’s length of them a horrible figure 
had taken shape — the figure of a naked man, 
striped and ringed with white paint, hung with 
scalps and bones and rattles of deer hooves. The 
face was a hideous mask, through which gleamed 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 255 


the one eye of Elkswatawa, glowing with a wild and 
insensate ferocity. Those who bore Black Sand’s 
body came past, and in their wake leaped that 
nightmare shape, and vanished. 

“ Git back to my lodge,” commanded Kenton 
sternly. “Wait thar fer me; load the rifles. 
They’re takin’ the body to the council lodge and 
thar’s hell to pay. Wait till I come.” 

The old frontiersman slipped away in the wake 
of the flitting figures. The fires that ringed the 
town were now being scattered and stamped out; 
the cold, drizzling rain was hissing on the embers; 
the whole place was buzzing with low voices, and 
women were wailing. 

Muir sought Kenton’s lodge, where their rifles 
had been left. He knew that the Prophet had 
assumed his character of wizard — but the Ken¬ 
tuckian cared little whether peace or war now 
developed. Black Sand was dead, basely mur¬ 
dered. Muir, when he had loaded the rifles, 
dropped beside the fire in the cabin. 

He remembered very acutely his father’s face, 
proud, kindly, stem of eye. He thought of how 
his father had been slain, by a knife in the back. 
He thought of John Cross and of the poor roving 
Moravian, whose brain had held so much of keen 
sense and kindliness and love. 


256 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ It will be justice, not murder,” he muttered 
to himself. 

He looked down at his own rifle again, feather¬ 
ing the touch-hole free of the least dust speck, 
going about the work with cold caution. From the 
near-by council house he could hear the loud, clear 
voice of the Prophet raised in a frenzied chant, 
which continued without cessation or pause. De¬ 
spite the grim resolve on vengeance which had 
once more clutched upon his brain, Muir grew 
cooler with each passing moment, gained firmer 
grip on himself. Later, he was glad of this. 

When at length Kenton appeared, Muir was star¬ 
ing into the fire, one hand clenching the golden 
eagle which hung at his breast. He swung to his 
feet at Kenton’s entrance. 

“ Well?” 

“ Ain’t no time to waste.” Sime Kenton quietly 
picked up his rifle and leaned on it a moment, to 
ease his hurt leg. “ They’re goin’ to rush Harri¬ 
son an hour ’fore dawn. They’re stirred up now 
past quietin’, and we got to warn Harrison.” 

“ I’m going to kill Hogan,” said Muir quietly. 

“ All right. You’ll likely get hell fer doin’ it. 
S’pose you take the warnin’.” 

Muir nodded, his gray eyes flaming as the sun 
flames through ice. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 257 


“ I’ll do it, Sime, and then I’ll pay that murder¬ 
ous dog if I have to kill Harrison first.” 

Kenton regarded him a long moment, his steely 
eyes curiously narrowed. 

“ I reckon you’d do it,” he said at length. 
“ Sarve out the pesky varmint, Dave, and a dum 
good job! But how you figgerin’ to git cl’ar 
afterward?” 

“ Eh? What do you mean?” 

Kenton laughed harshly. “ They’ll be hell riz 
with you fer killin’ him. Now, I ain’t goin’ to 
jine Harrison. This thing was all pieced up so’s 
to make the Injuns attack, and old Sime ain’t goin’ 
to have no hand in it. I’ll git in a canoe an’ 
paddle downstream. If you git cl’ar o’ them sojers, 
foiler the crick from the camp to where she hits 
the Wabash. I’ll be waitin’ there with the canoe.” 

Muir nodded comprehension. He had neither 
thought nor care as to what might follow the death 
of Hogan, but he realized that Kenton’s plan was 
shrewd. More than likely, Harrison would try 
to punish him immediately for the killing of 
Hogan. 

“ Very well, Sime,” he said. “ Good-by.” 

“ Oh, I’ll go along a ways,” muttered the fron¬ 
tiersman, and turned. 

They left the cabin together, Muir covering the 


258 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


pan of his rifle from the rain. The chant of Elks- 
watawa was rising shrill and high from the coun¬ 
cil house, and in the streets were gathered anxious, 
maddened warriors despite the rain. These paid 
no attention to the two friends, however, and at 
the edge of the village Kenton halted. 

“No Injun guards out, so git along,” he said 
simply. “ I reckon the A’mighty ain’t goin’ to for¬ 
get what this skunk Hogan done tonight. Sarve 
him out, and old Sime’ll be waitin’ fer you.” 

Muir strode away into the darkness and misty 
rain toward the glimmering fires of Harrison’s 
encampment. That he must warn Harrison he took 
as a matter of course. Whatever his sympathy 
with Tecumthe’s plans, he was first and last a white 
man, a Kentuckian, a son of the Cincinnati. Warn¬ 
ing to his own people must come first, and after 
that, vengeance. 

Presently he came upon a trail and followed it 
through cornfields and swamp, ever coming closer 
to the glimmering fires, until the sharp challenge of 
a sentry halted him. 

“ Halt! Who goes?” 

“ David Muir of Kentucky. I have immediate 
news for General Harrison.” 

Muir found that he had come upon a very cau¬ 
tious vedette. No one appeared until a repeated 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 259 


shout fetched an officer and half a dozen men who 
came crashing forward with torches held aloft. 
When Muir’s figure was descried, the officer held 
out his hand with a word of apology. 

“We must be cautious, sir — I do not recall 
your face, but you wear the eagle of the Cincinnati 
and we have not many of that society in the army.” 

“ I am not of the army,” said Muir. “ I come 
from the Prophet’s Town with news. I must see 
the General immediately.” 

“ Come with me, sir.” 

A moment more, and Muir found himself in the 
camp. He had fallen among the Indiana militia, 
behind whom were stationed the regular troops. 
These latter had tents, and Muir’s guide led him 
between the canvas lines, halting at length before 
a fire where a staff officer was dozing in no great 
comfort. 

“ Mr. Muir of Kentucky, sir, with important 
information.” 

The officer sprang up instantly. 

“ I’m Major Waller, sir — you may deliver your 
news to me.” 

“ My news is for the ear of Mr. Harrison only,” 
said Muir. “ I must see him at once.” 

“But — gad, sir! It’s after midnight and the 
General is sleeping-” 



260 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Then wake him, unless you want to be 
massacred.” 

Muir leaned on his rifle, grimly immobile. 
Major Waller looked him in the eye, then shivered 
slightly; the Kentuckian’s face reflected the harsh¬ 
ness that had settled upon his soul. Without a 
word more, Waller turned to the nearest tent, 
passed a sentry, and disappeared. There came 
a muffled sound of voices. Harrison, half dressed 
and with a blanket flung about his shoulders, strode 
out to the fire and faced Muir. 

“ Well, sir?” he snapped brusquely. 

Muir looked silently at Waller and two more offi¬ 
cers who had joined the group. He saw no sign 
of Hogan. 

“ Withdraw, gentlemen,” ordered Harrison, and 
they obeyed. Muir caught a stifled mutter of 
“ Impudent farmer!” from one of them. Then he 
looked steadily into the eyes of Harrison and spoke. 

“ Sir, I am just come from the Prophet’s Town. 
The chiefs have decided to attack your position an 
hour before dawn. They have some six hundred 
warriors and no lack of muskets.” 

It seemed to him that a swift flash of exultation 
leaped into Harrison’s cold eyes, but the General 
betrayed no surprise. He answered Muir with 
more courtesy. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 261 


“ I thank you for this news, sir. I did not think 
you bore me such good will, in view of what passed 
some time ago in Vincennes.” 

“ You were quite correct in so thinking,” 
said Muir bluntly. “ But you, sir, represent my 
country.” 

Harrison met his gaze frowningly, and for a lit¬ 
tle he did not respond. Then his eyes dropped to 
the emblem on Muir’s breast, and he started 
slightly. 

“ Mr. Muir, you are of the Cincinnati? Why 
did you not tell me that fact earlier? Had I known 
this when you lay in jail at Vincennes-” 

“ Never mind all that. You had best get your 
army in shape at once.” 

“ My dispositions are made, sir,” came the sig¬ 
nificant answer. Muir smiled thinly, in a wave of 
bitter anger. 

“ I suspected as much, Mr. Harrison, when your 
devil Hogan spoke to the chiefs. Thank heaven I 
am not in your army! I congratulate you, sir, on 
being well served.” 

He bowed ironically. Even in the fire-glimmer 
he caught the dark flush that rose to Harrison’s 
cheeks under the bite of his words. Then, to his 
astonishment, the General stepped closer and laid 
a hand on his arm, looking him full in the eye. He 



262 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


spoke slowly, and with a grave sadness in his voice 
that startled Muir. 

“ Sir, I perceive that you are a gentleman. I 
have this to say to you — that I have no personal 
feelings to consider when my duty lies clear before 
me. I have done all that is possible to break up 
this Indian settlement in peace. In justice to my 
people, to my governance, to my country, I cannot 
have this Indian confederation existing at my very 
door. I appreciate your views, but my duty stands 
first. Can you comprehend me better now, sir?” 

Muir stood silent. In that moment he did, 
indeed, begin to comprehend the man who faced 
him, and he knew that this appeal to him had been 
hard to say. He understood how Harrison, inflexi¬ 
bly stem in all that regarded his office, had acted 
from the standpoint of duty alone — and from 
that standpoint had acted well. Then the thought 
of Hogan drove fire through his brain and brought 
words to his lips. 

66 1 am sensible of your attitude, Mr. Harrison,” 
he admitted, “ and it may be that I have been 
blinded by personal considerations. But now there 
is a pressing matter in which I must ask your aid. 
Black Sand, of whom you know, was basely mur¬ 
dered this evening — knifed in the back by Hogan. 
Where is this man, sir?” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 263 


“ Hogan?” Harrison started in genuine sur¬ 
prise, and his eyes leaped into keenness. 66 He 
murdered Black Sand, you say?” 

“ With a knife in the back,” snapped Muir. 
“ Where is he?” 

“ By gad, that must explain it!” muttered Har¬ 
rison as though to himself. 66 Why, sir, Captain 
Hogan left camp an hour ago — upon my word, 
I knew nothing of this deed!” 

44 Left camp?” repeated Muir, dumfounded. 
44 Left camp, you say?” 

44 Aye, sir.” Harrison frowned, trouble in his 
eyes. “ He returned from the Indian town with 
word that the chiefs undoubtedly meant war, and 
had not answered my message. He prayed that 
he might not have to witness the destruction of the 
town where he had so often been a guest. By gad, 
I thought the request an odd one! But I sent him 
with dispatches to Vincennes-” 

Muir cried out suddenly, an inarticulate, burst¬ 
ing cry that sent Harrison a pace backward. For, 
suddenly, a terrible fear had leaped into Muir’s 
heart. 

44 Tell me,” he cried hoarsely, “ tell me if you 
know anything about Madame Alice Cross, who 
was accompanied by a black slave?” 

44 My scouts stopped them on the river south of 



264 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


here this afternoon, sir,” responded Harrison. 
“They were fleeing from the Indians, and were 
allowed to pass on to Vincennes. Madame Cross 
— good heavens, sir! That is the lady of whom 
you spoke, once before, in connection with 
Hogan-” 

“At the time of your private interview with 
Tecumthe.” Muir groaned. “ And now that 
devil Hogan has sped after them — he learned that 

she had been seen by your scouts-” 

“ Impossible, Mr. Muir — nay, not impossible, 
either.” Harrison flamed into sudden keen inter¬ 
est. “ By gad, this looks strange! Hogan was in 
haste to get away. Yet surely he could not con¬ 
ceive harm against a woman-” 

“ He is the devil let loose.” Muir caught up his 
rifle. “ Mr. Harrison, your servant. For the sake 
of my country, I wish you well.” 

He strode away, leaving Harrison to stare after 
him as though he were a madman. 

Nor was there any great amount of sanity in 
Muir’s brain at that moment. The bitter fact that 
Hogan had escaped him was like fire to his brain. 
The realization that Hogan had gone questing after 
Alice Cross was maddening. 

At the south end ol the camp, Muir was halted by 
a score of Spencer’s riflemen, but he strode through 





A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 265 


them without a word and they, knowing him for a 
white man, dared not fire after him. Raging in¬ 
wardly, Muir came to the creek and followed it 
with ever increasing speed — running through the 
half-frozen mud, splashing through rain water and 
pools, cursing as he went in the frenzy of anger 
that drove and spurred him. 

Hogan was fleeing! The scout had returned to 
camp, had heard about Alice and the negro, and 
had set out immediately in pursuit. Here, Hogan’s 
work had been terribly finished, and he was free 
to follow his own desires. He knew that could he 
overtake Alice Cross he might at least force her 
into a semblance of marriage at Vincennes or 
before. 

“ Sime! Sime!” 

Muir splashed out on the Wabash bank. At his 
shout, a dark shape drove in at him. 

“Right here, Dave! I ain’t heard no shot — 
did ye knife the skunk?” 

Sobbing blindly, Muir scrambled aboard the 
canoe and seized a paddle. 

“ He’s an hour ahead — gone to Vincennes with 
dispatches — pursuing Alice Cross. After him, 
Sime, after him!” 

Sime listened to the panted tale in stark amaze¬ 
ment. Muir forgot that he had gained little rest 


266 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


since the previous dawn; he remembered only that, 
somewhere on this river, somewhere in the hun¬ 
dred and fifty-seven miles between himself and 
Vincennes, was Philip Hogan, cruel and merciless 
as any kestrel hawk. Muir told himself that he, 
in his own turn, would be cruel and merciless as 
the eagle that strikes down the kestrel. His first 
convulsive fear for Alice had by this time passed 
away. Even against Hogan, old Tom was quite 
competent to protect the girl, given any warning. 
And Tom would not be caught off guard. 

64 Now, Sime — paddle! We’ll need the exer¬ 
cise to keep warm.” 

“We’ll need more’n than that,” said Kenton 
grimly. “ Lay to that thar oar, and we’ll make 
Vincennes post by sundown tomorrer, if we ain’t 
dead.” 

Fresh hope thrilled into Muir, as he bent to the 
swing of the paddle. He had told Tom to make 
for the Ohio and place Alice in the care of Ber- 
thoud at Louisville. They must have struck the 
river and started the trip shortly after noon of that 
day, after leaving Muir and Black Sand. Thus 
they would have a twelve-hour start on Hogan. 

With Kenton in the stern, steering through the 
rainy, freezing night by some subtle woodsman’s 
instinct, they flashed down the river. They came 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 267 


to the small post built by Harrison, where his 
bateaux and canoes were collected, and sped past, 
silent and unchallenged. Ten minutes afterward, 
Muir held up his paddle and turned, listening. A 
faint, muttering sound had reached through the 
darkness to them — a sound as of a canebrake 
popping in a forest fire. 

“ It’s about an hour to dawn, friend Dave,” 
said Kenton solemnly. “May the A’mighty be 
good to them thar poor sojers and Injuns this day!” 

Muir shuddered a little, though not from cold 
and caught up his paddle. The crackling mutter 
continued steadily, somewhere in the night behind 
them. The Tippecanoe swamps would freeze red 
that day. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Though ye conquer twice and thrice 
Ye must pay the gods their price . 

On the evening of the seventh of November, 
1811, the landing stage at Vincennes was by no 
means a cheerful spot. 

Most of the townsmen had marched with Harri¬ 
son, and those who remained were half-breeds or 
French Canadian voyageurs, whose sympathies lay 
more with the Indians than with the territorial 
army. A few of these were loitering on the river 
front, while on the landing stage itself was standing 
a group of Shakers, talking together. Chief among 
them was one of rubicund visage and jolly eye. On 
this early evening, however, the rubicund counte¬ 
nance of Elias Powell was clouded over with the 
pale cast of anxiety. All Vincennes was on tenter¬ 
hooks, for that matter; suspense had gripped the 
whole territory. No man knew what tidings might 
come out of the north at any moment, and no man 
but was divided between hope and fear. 

An exclamation from a staring Canadian caused 
the group of Shakers to turn and gaze at the river. 
Drifting down the stream and heading in to the 
268 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 269 


landing stage was a canoe bearing two men. One 
of these, a frontiersman of powerful frame, was 
humped over his paddle in the stern as though in 
complete exhaustion. The other, in the bow, 
seemed in no better case, yet he managed to turn the 
craft athwart the current. He was haggard, 
ghastly of face, and borne down by a terrible wear¬ 
iness; but as he caught sight of Elias Powell he 
smiled a little. 

“ It’s Gin’ral Kenton in the stam!” cried some 
one. “ Who’s the other? Are they scouts?” 

Powell cried Muir’s name, and was the first to 
meet the canoe. Kenton had fainted in utter ex¬ 
haustion. Not even the magnificent strength of 
Kenton had availed against his age, for since leav¬ 
ing the battle ground they had paddled like mad¬ 
men, with neither rest nor food. Muir’s burning 
fury of vengeance had lent him superhuman 
energy, and it was he who had lasted best in that 
terrific spurt. Now he refused to be helped ashore, 
but gripped Powell’s hand and made a swift appeal. 

“ No,” he cried wearily, 64 we have no news, no 
news. Powell, for heaven’s sake drive these 
people away! I must speak to you in private.” 

Since it was well known that Kenton had not 
marched with the army, the keen interest of the 
crowd waned swiftly, and the men drew away. 


270 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

Muir, his chin sagging on his breast, found the 
Shaker bending over him. He looked up and 
spoke. 

44 Madame Cross — have you seen her? With 
a negro slave?” 

44 This afternoon, sir,” came Powell’s anxious 
reply. 44 Be at ease! They are safe. I met them 
and sped them on their way, for they would not 
stop except to get food. Thee does-” 

44 Captain Hogan!” demanded Muir feverishly. 
44 Has he arrived?” 

44 He left only a half hour ago, having brought 
word that Mr. Harrison did expect battle with the 
savages momentarily.” 

44 Did he know that Madame Cross had been 
here? Did he ask for her?” 

“Yea, and I myself told him,” said Powell com¬ 
placently. 44 Methought ’twas best for so estim¬ 
able a man to lend his protection to a female, and 
he so promised to do. He hired boatmen and —” 

44 Ah! Wait — help me here! Sime, Sime! We’ve 
lost!” 

Muir stretched back in the canoe and seized 
Kenton by the shoulder, shaking the older man 
with savage vehemence. Muir realized that his 
own strength was almost burned out, and redou¬ 
bled his frenzied efforts to rouse Kenton. Under 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 271 


his blows, the old borderer swayed up like a man in 
liquor, his eyes still closed. 

Powell, now comprehending that something of 
importance was afoot, seized Kenton and jerked 
icy water into his face from the river. Muir des¬ 
perately collected his reeling senses to face mat¬ 
ters. He had no great fear for Alice, for Tom 
would protect her to the death. Besides, Hogan 
had hired boatmen, and before these witnesses 
would attempt no violence. It was now sheer blind 
hatred that drove Muir, like a knife in his soul. 

44 Eh?” Kenton was awake at last. “ What is 
it?” 

Muir and the Shaker made him understand the 
situation. Then Powell, who had gathered some 
inkling of the truth, leaped up with a call to the 
nearest boatman. The Canadian came sauntering 
to them through the dusk. 

46 Friend Jean, get thy four-fathom fur canoe!” 
commanded Powell. 44 Three paddlers besides 
thee. These men would go to the Ohio settlements, 
perchance to Louisville. Haste thee, lazy woods 
rogue — vaurien — fur thief-” 

With astonishing energy and a shower of harm¬ 
less oaths, Powell rushed the boatman away toward 
his fellows. Behind, Muir clung limply to the 
landing stage, blessing this speedy action of the 



272 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


man whose stupidity he had been cursing only a 
moment previously. Kenton had already relapsed 
into the slumber of exhaustion. Gradually Muir, 
too, dropped away beneath the numbing hand of 
cold and weariness. 

Then men shook him awake again, and he was 
aware of being aided into a larger canoe — a high- 
bowed four-fathom craft of birch; the liquid voices 
of Canadian boatmen were around him, and he 
threw up his head in a final effort of his iron will. 
Kenton was being dragged into the larger craft. 

66 You know Captain Hogan?” demanded Muir 
thickly. 

“ Oui , m’sieu, we know him.” 

“ Then, if you overtake him, waken me. He is 
between here and Louisville. Go fast-” 

Muir sank back, his last energy spent. As in a 
dream, he heard the boatmen singing to the surge 
and swing of their paddles — singing that same 
song which the French trader had hummed one 
night in Lexington, the same song which he had 
once heard on the lips of Alice Cross: 

“— Irois canards s 9 en vont baignans 
Tons du long de la riviere , 

Legerement ma bergere, 

Legrement, ye merit!” 

After that, the Kentuckian knew no more. 



A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 273 


While he slept, the long canoe swept on down 
the Wabash through the night, and the stars shone 
cold in the frost-white sky, and the wild geese 
heading away into the south flew honking overhead 
against the spangled heavens. 

When Muir wakened and looked up into the 
face of Kenton, the morning was well forward. 
The long canoe was on the Ohio, moored to a tree 
on the south bank, and the two friends joined the 
boatmen in their repast of dried venison. From 
a flatboat encountered at the mouth of the Wabash, 
the Canadians had learned that Hogan was still 
ahead. 

As both Muir and Kenton now felt fit for work, 
they relieved two of the boatmen and once more the 
long canoe began her battle against the current of 
the Ohio. An hour afterward, they hailed an 
ark passing down to St. Louis, and learned that 
Hogan was only a few miles ahead of them, but 
that his canoe contained neither negro nor girl. 
This news mightily relieved Muir. He concluded 
that Uncle Tom had either fallen in with other 
travelers or else that the old negro had camped 
out somewhere along the Wabash; in either case, 
Hogan had been eluded. 

The boatmen, who had entered whole-heartedly 
into the business of overtaking Hogan, now con- 


274 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


fessed that it could scarcely be done. Muir and 
Kenton conferred in puzzled wonder as to Hogan’s 
haste, since the scout could not possibly know that 
they were at his heels, and must be aware that he 
had missed Alice Cross. 

Fear could not be driving him. So far as Hogan 
could know, David Muir was back there in the wil¬ 
derness. He had nothing to fear from the murder 
of Black Sand, so far as the law was concerned, nor 
could the murder of John Cross be fastened upon 
him by the sole testimony of Muir, since Uncle 
Tom was a slave whose testimony would not be 
allowed. Kenton conjectured that Hogan was driv¬ 
ing for Louisville, to report that he had found 
the du Croix family and collect the reward there¬ 
for. Yet to Muir this seemed too small an excuse. 
And Muir was right. 

That night, with all six men worn out, the canoe 
drew in to a small settlement on the Kentucky 
shore. Here they rested for six hours, then recom¬ 
menced the steady battle against the river current. 
Kenton, whose injured leg was improving fast, 
fretted over the twists and bends of the river, but 
for this there was no help. Muir marveled at 
the iron endurance of the boatmen, who kept their 
paddles swinging steadily all the next day, and 
marveled still more at the way Hogan maintained 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 275 


his lead, and the reason for it. That afternoon 
they met a flatboat whose crew reported Hogan 
five miles ahead. 

44 We cannot do it,” said the head Canadian help¬ 
lessly. 44 We can make Henderson tonight, but 
there we must rest until morning. You can get a 
fresh crew at Henderson if you wish. Hogan’s 
crew must also be relieved there.” 

Ten miles from Henderson, however, came a 
most unexpected intervention. Kenton, who was 
seated behind Muir, leaned forward and tapped 
the Kentuckian’s shoulder. 

44 Dave, look at that thar canoe a-comin’ down!” 

Dead ahead of them, a small canoe had just 
rounded a bend into their sight. Muir stared at 
it, then an exclamation of astounded wonder broke 
from his lips; seated in the canoe was no other than 
Uncle Tom! 

The negro saw them at the same moment, stood 
up for a better look, and then waved his paddle with 
a wild yell of recognition, at imminent danger of 
capsizing. 

Five minutes afterward the two craft were along¬ 
side each other, and Tom was scrambling into the 
larger canoe with breathless eagerness, casting his 
own small canoe adrift. 

“Bless de Lawd!” he shouted, hugging Muir 


276 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

vehemently. “ OF Tom was gwine back to de 
Wabash, a-fixin’ to find yo’-all wid de Injuns!” 

“Where’s Madame Alice?” demanded Muir 
sharply. 

Tom grinned widely and related his story. After 
passing Vincennes on the Wabash, he had recalled 
the post road running to Louisville. By taking 
this, which formed the hypotenuse of a triangle, 
he would save himself much paddling and would 
gain time. Alice, as good on the trail as most 
men, had readily agreed; and landing, they pro¬ 
ceeded overland, reaching Louisville without event 
on the evening previous to this. Leaving Alice 
safely bestowed with Mr. Berthoud, Tom had ob¬ 
tained a canoe and had almost instantly set out 
down river, with the idea of reaching the Wabash 
and finding Muir. 

“ Have you seen Hogan?” cried Muir. 

The negro’s eyes rolled in surprise. He had seen 
nothing of Hogan on the entire trip to Louisville; 
nor, it proved, while coming down the river during 
the day had he sighted the scout. This fact stag¬ 
gered both Muir and Kenton, until one of the boat¬ 
men suggested a solution. 

“ M’sieu! Around the nex’ bend there is a 
settlement. M’sieu Hogan landed, obtained a horse 
perhaps, took the trail to Henderson — et voila!” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 277 


They paddled on in feverish haste, and this con¬ 
jecture was verified on coming abreast of the settle¬ 
ment mentioned. On the shore was drawn up a 
large canoe, with four boatmen lying around it in 
attitudes of utter exhaustion; there was no sign of 
Hogan, either here or in the clearings back from 
the river. Muir would not stop, for there was no 
doubt that Hogan had gone on to Henderson, and 
he wanted to catch the man there. 

With the comparatively fresh Tom to help with 
the work, the big canoe pushed faster up the stream. 
At nine o’clock they drew in to the Henderson 
landing, all hands exhausted. Leaving Kenton to 
engage a fresh crew to take them on to Louisville 
at once, Muir staggered uptown in search of 
Hogan. 

He had no need to go farther than the first 
tavern. Hogan had come into town by the river 
trail half an hour previously, bearing news that 
Harrison and the Indian tribes were engaged in 
battle on the Wabash. Heedless of the wild excite¬ 
ment thus occasioned in the town, Hogan had com¬ 
mandeered the best horse to be found and had 
pushed on to Louisville by road. At this, Muir 
groaned. Pushing away from the eager crowd of 
men who surrounded him with demands for his 
news, he strode out of the tavern. 


278 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Being too far exhausted to ride on to Shipping- 
port that night, he hurried back to the landing and 
found Kenton engaging a crew of fresh men, as the 
Canadians would come on to Louisville the next 
day and get their payment. Muir imparted his 
discouraging news. 

“ We’ll go by canoe and get there fresh,” he 
concluded. “ Alice is safe, and whatever villainy 
Hogan is contemplating, it’s in vain so far as 
she’s concerned. And you can count on it that he’s 
about as worn out as we are, Sime. So go ahead.” 

Muir settled down again in the canoe, and was 
asleep before the craft started on the final lap of 
her voyage. All through that night he and Kenton 
slept, while Tom urged on the boatmen and aided 
them with his giant strength. Wakening at dawn, 
Muir borrowed a razor and made shift to get him¬ 
self in a more presentable state. It was close on 
noon before they passed Salt River, and an hour 
after noon when Sullivan’s Ferry hove in sight. 
Seven miles left to go! 

66 See Berthoud first thing,” said Muir, as he 
and Kenton loaded their rifles. “ Then to find 
Hogan and settle matters.” 

Kenton nodded. “ Sarve the cuss out, Dave! 
But this ain’t forest. Thar’s law here, and law’s 
plumb hell on honest men like us.” 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 279 


“ The law be damned,” snapped Muir, his gray 
eyes flaming moodily. 

So at last the big fur canoe drew in to the land¬ 
ings at Shippingport. As they came, Muir saw 
rivermen crowded about the landing stages, dis¬ 
cussing in wild excitement the news which Hogan 
had borne in three hours previously. In order to 
be unhindered, Muir and Kenton disclaimed all 
knowledge of events on the Wabash, and disem¬ 
barked with Tom. Barely had Muir stretched his 
cramped legs, however, when he saw Berthoud 
running toward the landing. The plump merchant 
thrust his way with scant ceremony through the 
crowd, quite forgetful of the fact that he had left 
his wig at home, and pumped wildly at Muir’s arm. 

“Egad, sir — egad! And General Kenton too 
— and old Tom! Egad, gentlemen, I’m delighted 
to see you!” 

A little apart from the throngs, Kenton came to 
a halt. 

“ Alice?” exclaimed Muir. “ She’s with you?” 

“Aye, and safe she is!” Berthoud suddenly 
scowled ferociously. “ Ah, that damned scoun¬ 
drel! She is at this moment riding with my daugh¬ 
ter — an exercise which I recommend after the 
midday meal, sir. I had like to have broken his 
cursed neck, the rogue-” 



280 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


“ Who?” demanded Muir, tempted to laugh 
despite his anxiety. “ What mean you? Have you 
seen Hogan, then?” 

“Aye!” Berthoud’s face purpled with rage, 
as the excited words tumbled out of him. “ He 
rode in this morning from Henderson and came to 
me direct — the damned rogue! The cursed Demo¬ 
crat! He claimed the reward for finding the du 
Croix family and presented a document which pur¬ 
ported to be the will and testament of John Cross, 
bequeathing all that he possessed to Hogan. 
Damme, but it was lucky I had heard the tale 
from the lips of Alice before he showed up!” 

Muir exchanged a glance with Kenton. So this, 
then, was the reason for Hogan’s haste! 

“ Where is he?” asked Muir. His voice was 
very quiet, but Berthoud looked into his eyes and 
suddenly turned pale. 

“ At — at the St. Louis tavern, sir. I kicked him 
out of my house — damme, I had like to have 
wrung his neck! Leave him alone, Mr. Muir. He 
was quite exhausted, and I hear that he cannot 
even be roused to give further news of General 
Harrison. Has there been fighting?” 

“A battle, yes; how it came out, we do not 
know.” 

“To my house, gentlemen, to my house at 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 281 


once!” urged the merchant suddenly. 46 You are 
in need of a bath and fresh clothes — dinner is yet 
on the table-” 

Kenton nodded imperceptibly, and Muir ac¬ 
cepted. They need not hurry, and Muir reflected 
that he was sadly in need of civilized garments to 
replace his tattered buckskin. When, ten minutes 
later, he looked into a mirror while Tom and Ber- 
thoud’s slaves unpacked his belongings, Muir was 
startled by his own aspect. He looked like some 
wandering wilderness specter — gaunt and haggard 
by this wild journey, hollow-cheeked and staring of 
eye. 

Urging haste on the slaves, in no long while he 
was being helped into a blue broadcloth suit. Muir 
looked at his rifle, but did not pick it up. He 
hesitated over knife and tomahawk, but left them. 
The flame that surged in his brain demanded some¬ 
thing that was beyond the power of weapons to 
give. 

Entering the dining room, Muir bowed to Mis¬ 
tress Berthoud, was relieved to find that Alice had 
not returned from her ride with Berthoud’s daugh¬ 
ter, and waited until Kenton appeared, awkward in 
civilized garb. They drank a cup of tea with 
Berthoud, then Muir glanced at Kenton, and the 
two men took their departure. Perhaps Berthoud 



282 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


guessed what they had in mind, for he made no 
offer to accompany them. 

Together they left the house and turned to the 
St. Louis tavern, but a short distance away. Neither 
man spoke, but Kenton’s face was grave. About 
the tavern was a crowd of men, all waiting until 
Hogan could be roused to furnish news. Muir 
pressed through the throng, and in the travelers’ 
room came upon the host, a burly man who had 
followed the river in his day. 

“ Take us to Captain Hogan’s room at once,” 
said Muir, while men stared at him. 

The innkeeper would have objected, but Kenton 
took him by the arm, and Muir put a hand to his 
throat. So savage was the Kentuckian’s lean, keen¬ 
nosed face, so terrible were the blazing gray eyes, 
that the host shrank in terror. He led them away 
without any further protest, stating that Hogan 
had taken the whole loft to himself. 

This tavern was no handsome place. From the 
upper story, a crude ladder led to the loft above, 
and the walls were of chinked logs covered on the 
exterior with planks. At the foot of the ladder, 
Muir halted the staring host. 

“ Get back downstairs.” 

The man went. Muir turned to the ladder and 
mounted, with Kenton at his heels. 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 283 


Shoving up the trapdoor above him, Muir rose 
into a loft that was lighted by two end windows. 
On a pallet lay Hogan, snoring heavily; even in 
slumber those handsome, cruel features leaped out 
at Muir and roused the devils of hatred in his heart. 
But he only stooped, picked up Hogan’s rifle, and 
passed it to his friend. 

“ Take it, Sime.” 

He stood over the pallet and looked down at the 
sleeping man, who was covered by a blanket. 

64 Hogan!” 

His word was quiet, but at the voice, the scout 
stirred uneasily. 

64 Hogan!” 

The man’s eyelids fluttered. Then, almost be¬ 
fore Muir sensed that his enemy had wakened, 
Hogan was sitting up and staring at him, hands 
beneath the blankets. 

44 A word with you, Hogan,” said Muir grimly. 
He saw the other man go livid, saw that lurid 
murder-look flash into the black eyes — and now 
was glad of it. His own rage flashed out with 
sudden fury. 44 You’re finished, you murderous 
cur!” he cried. 44 You used a knife once too often 
when you slew Black Sand. And do you remem¬ 
ber my father, whom you murdered ten years ago, 
as basely as you murdered John Cross-” 



284 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Hogan’s hands moved slightly, but gave no 
warning. There was a sudden blast of fire, the 
thunderous roar of a pistol, and Muir staggered 
back, clutching at his breast. His fingers clenched 
on the gold eagle of the Cincinnati, driven almost 
into his flesh, but with the pistol ball hot in the 
center of the twisted metal. 

Hogan leaped upright, another pistol ready — 
but Muir, realizing only that he was not dead, flung 
himself forward into the reek of smoke. He caught 
the second pistol, which emptied itself into the roof, 
bore Hogan backward, and the two men went 
crashing to the floor together. Almost at once 
they writhed up, Muir with a fierce grip on his 
enemy’s throat; but Hogan gouged for the eyes and 
so broke clear. 

Knowing that he must give the murderer no 
chance to draw knife, Muir lunged in and drove 
his fist to Hogan’s face. He smiled with the anger 
that was on him, and his smile was terrible. Hogan, 
clutching at his belt, reeled back against the end 
window. Muir was upon him like an avenging 
flame; so furious was the onslaught that Hogan 
could not get his knife clear, and was forced to 
fight barehanded. So forced, he drove at Muir 
with a snarl of fury, and in this moment sustained 
to the full his border reputation, fighting frontier 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 285 


fashion with knees and feet and hands and elbows. 
Yet never had he fought with such a man as this 
— a gray-eyed creature of gaunt bone and muscle, 
whose iron fists thudded into him with pitiless fury, 
and who smiled as he struck. 

Hogan was backed against the log wall, now 
fighting as desperately as any wild animal at bay. 
Muir’s fist crashed into his ribs; something snapped, 
and Hogan’s face went ashen. He hurled him¬ 
self bodily forward, but that deadly fist met him 
fair between the eyes and drove him back. Again 
Muir struck, and Hogan screamed out horribly as 
he staggered and clung to the logs behind. He 
tried to escape, but Muir followed in deadly 
silence, and struck again. Then the scout fled 
openly, screaming, and Kenton stood aside to give 
them fair play. 

Again Muir’s fist drove home. Hogan fell 
heavily, then dragged himself to one elbow, and 
Muir stepped back to let him rise. Then, too late, 
he saw steel flash, and drove in again, but Hogan 
writhed away and came erect with knife and toma¬ 
hawk in either hand. 

The knife went up in that same deadly under¬ 
hand throw which had slain John Cross — but 
Muir knew that throw. He flung his left arm before 
his throat, felt a shock and a sting of pain, and 


286 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


laughed wildly. Before Hogan could bring up 
the tomahawk, Muir was on him, still laughing. 

Hogan cut with his weapon, but effected nothing. 
Muir’s reddened fist smashed into his mouth with 
fearful force; his head snapped back; he staggered 
and reeled under the terrific impact of that blow. 
Then, abruptly, the man plunged out of sight, a 
scream on his lips. Just in time, Kenton leaped 
forward with a warning cry — Muir checked him¬ 
self at the edge of the trapdoor opening, through 
which Hogan had gone down. 

Muir’s eyes followed the man, and the laugh of 
anger died on his lips, as he saw Hogan’s body at 
the foot of the ladder, the neck twisted horribly. 
Whether the man’s neck had been broken by that 
last terrible blow or by the fall, Muir never knew 
— or cared. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Spur to the quest — 

God holds the rest! 

The dining table of Mr. Berthoud was bright 
with candles and gleaming silver, and his grinning 
negro butler held a decanter of the choicest Oporto 
that had ever come across the Alleghanies. At the 
table sat his wife, his daughter Josette, and several 
younger Berthouds, all scrubbed and polished and 
starched and radiant; Kenton, quite self-conscious 
in his broadcloth and high white stock; Alice Cross, 
supreme happiness in her dancing, gold-brown 
eyes; and David Muir with Uncle Tom behind his 
chair, gigantic and grinning. The Kentuckian was 
very good to look upon that evening. A twisted 
bit of battered metal gleamed yellow against his 
fresh blue broadcloth. 

Yet, though Muir smiled into the girl’s eyes, 
there was to his face a graver touch than ever be¬ 
fore. Behind him lay dark memories — Black 
Sand, John Cross, Hogan, and his own old self. 
On the word of Kenton and the mutely eloquent 
testimony of the bullet in the twisted golden eagle, 
Muir had been cleared of all blame attending 
287 


288 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Hogan’s death, and the dinner was in celebration 
of that verdict. 

Now Berthoud cleared his throat preparatory to 
the third toast, and lifted his glass, a rich twinkle 
in his eye as he bowed slightly toward his good 
wife. 

“ My friends,” he said, beaming, 46 we have 
drunk the President and the Constitution, and the 
ladies have consented to sit for one more toast 
before departing. I am a plain business man, so 
I give you a merchant’s toast, if you will permit 
me. May we all be entered apprentices to beauty; 
may we all be fellow craftsmen in love; and may 
we all be masters of our own households — or else, 
egad, mistresses of the same!” 

The glasses clinked; the ladies rose, and Muir 
conducted Alice to the door. At parting he bent 
above her hand, and as his eyes lifted again to 
hers, he found there a message which he could not 
mistake, and which sent a song into his heart. 
Then, sighing a little, he returned to the table and 
took the pipe which Tom handed him. 

At this moment Berthoud, standing by his chair, 
gave a sudden start of recollection and uttered a 
sharp cry. 

64 Damme if I had not forgotten it! Mr. Muir, 
a package was left here for you by an Indian some 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 289 


three weeks since. Here, boy, go fetch that packet 
lying on the floor beneath my bed.” 

“ A package?” repeated Muir, puzzled, as the 
butler departed on his errand. 

“ Yes, with no message save that you would 
call for it.” 

“ I don’t know what it could be,” said Muir, 
refusing the decanter which the merchant passed 
him. 64 By the way, sir, we have not talked over 
private matters. Has that friend of Kenton’s ever 
come back from New Orleans?” 

46 Egad, sir, he has!” Berthoud chuckled heartily. 
44 He returned a month after you had departed. I 
made what promises to be a very profitable invest¬ 
ment of your funds, Mr. Muir, together with some 
other moneys. If it please you, we shall — ah, 
here is your package.” 

For the moment, Muir forgot finances in his 
curiosity. The butler laid before him a bundle 
wrapped in doeskin, and Kenton started slightly. 
Muir untied the thong about the packet, and dis¬ 
closed a long hunting shirt of the most beautifully 
tanned buckskin that ever Muir had seen. The 
leather, however, was scarce visible, so thickly was 
the shirt broidered with stained quills and beads; 
a superb example of the finest Indian workman¬ 
ship. Yet Muir did not know what to make of 


290 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


the thing, until Kenton, plucking at the fringed 
edge, found the round tag that was the emblem of 
Tecumthe. 

“ The chief ain’t fergot the rifle you once loaned 
him,” said Kenton gravely. “ It’s a sagamore’s 
coat — huh! Them’s French and Spanish beads. 
The chief done had it made down south among 
the Creeks.” 

“ A fine thing, a wonderful thing, sir!” ex¬ 
claimed Berthoud enthusiastically. “ Wine with 
you, Mr. Muir! No? By the way, sir, we were 
speaking of an investment, I think.” 

Muir looked up. He wondered at the twinkle 
that crept into Berthoud’s eye. Kenton, having 
loosened his stiff white stock, puffed placidly at 
his pipe. 

“ Yes, I had forgotten money matters for the 
moment,” said Muir. “ And pray what is this 
investment?” 

“ You are acquainted with a Mr. Terasse of 
Lexington?” 

“ Yes. He keeps the famous Vauxhall Garden 
in that town.” 

Berthoud smiled and sat back in his chair, as 
though secretly amused. 

“ Some weeks ago I received a letter from this 
Mr. Terasse informing me that some highly desir- 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 291 


able lands had been offered for sale. Among 
these lands was a plantation which he, as one of 
my business friends, strongly urged me to buy. 
Accordingly, I did so. Your money, Mr. Muir, 
after I had turned over the funds in a land prospect 
here which paid remarkably well, were sufficient to 
take a certain share in that investment.” 

“ Yes?” Muir still wondered at the lurking 
twinkle in the merchant’s eye. 44 And will I have 
any speedy returns on this money?” 

44 Perhaps, perhaps.” Berthoud pursed up his 
lips judicially. 44 Last night, while talking with 
Madame Alice Cross, she offered to buy out my 
larger interest in the plantation with those moneys 
which had been left in my care by her deceased 
father — that is, of course, including her brother’s 
share, which that rascal Hogan had attempted to 
obtain with a forged will. I accepted this offer, 

sir. Therefore, as you can see-” 

44 Where is this plantation?” broke in Muir, 
frowning. 44 In Kentucky?” 

44 Yes, sir, some miles north of Lexington. As 
I was about to say, Madame Alice and I had 
decided that, in view of your vested interest, you 

might consent to manage the property-” 

44 What plantation is it?” interrupted Muir 
again. 44 I know all those places well.” 




292 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 


Berthoud looked at him, tried to control him¬ 
self, and then smiled broadly. 

“ The former Muir plantation, sir.” 

Muir sat staring, his face a graven mask. The 
former Muir plantation — then Berthoud must 
know his story, the story of shame and disgrace 
which lay behind him. And kindly Terasse was 
responsible for this! 

Muir dimly realized that Berthoud was speaking, 
and forced his attention to the words. All of 
Hogan’s properties had been placed on the market, 
for what reason was unknown. The fact remained, 
however, and needed no explanation. Muir sat now 
with bowed head, as he realized the full measure of 
the offer that was being made him — the restitu¬ 
tion of property which he had flung away, the trust 
in his judgment and ability. He lifted his head 
and, turning, raised his hand to Tom. Looking up 
into the grizzled negro’s eyes, he found there a 
wild delight, a bewilderment, a slow compre¬ 
hension. 

“ Tom, shall we go back home, old friend?” 

Tom tried to answer, but choked on the word. 
Muir, smiling, turned back to the table. 

“ Mr. Berthoud, I thank you; I can say no more. 
We will go home, and it may be that with Tom’s 
help I can build up the estate which I shattered 


A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 293 


in my fool’s vanity. You probably know my story, 
sir, and Sime knows it also, so I need say no more. 
But, sir, there is one more point on which I crave 
your aid.” 

“ I am at your service, sir,” exclaimed the mer¬ 
chant with enthusiasm. He had not spared the 
good Oporto, and was in high good humor. 

“ If Sime will accompany me on a journey 
which I have in mind, I would like you to send 
Madame Alice to the plantation in care of Uncle 
Tom, here-” 

64 Eh?” Berthoud fell all astare. 46 A journey? 
Egad, sir, what mean you?” 

44 1 have business in Washington,” and Muir 
smiled a little, 44 where I must interview Mr. Henry 
Clay on a matter of some importance. I may need 
Sime’s help in that interview. Then we can come 
back to Kentucky together, and then-” 

44 And then, Dave?” broke in Kenton, as Muir 
paused. 44 What then?” 

44 Why-” Muir hesitated an instant, until 

the memory of that last look from Alice struck 
courage into him. 44 Why, gentlemen, then I hope 
to invite you both to visit me on a very joyous 
occasion. Mind, I say hope-” 

He said no more. Berthoud, suddenly compre¬ 
hending the drift of this, leaped to his feet and 






294 A SON OF THE CINCINNATI 

roared at his butler to fill the glasses with wine 
once again. 

“ Egad, you shall drink one toast with me!” he 
cried, waving his own glass somewhat unsteadily. 
“ Mr. Muir’s father and the father of Madame 
du Croix, or Cross, were both members of the 
Cincinnati society. In all true delicacy toward 
your hopes, Mr. Muir, I pledge a certain hope of 
my own! Drink, gentlemen, to — a son of the 
Cincinnati!” 

Not until Kenton choked on his wine and broke 
into a roar did Muir understand. Then, before 
he could speak, Kenton rose, grinning. 

“ I reckon,” drawled the frontiersman, 66 that 
we’d better jine the womenfolks, ’fore Berthoud 
here gits any livelier! All ready, Dave?” 

“ It’s high time, I think,” and laughing, Muir 
came to his feet. 

But his thoughts were all on that look he had 
seen in the eyes of Alice Cross, and as he passed in 
to the drawing room, he was smiling. 


The End 






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